Notes
by Kaledena
Summary: Metamorphosis... He said dreamily. That is the true magic of this world, is it not? Would you like to be a swan, Daroga?..It was never clear what would happen, but a very much alive Erik is captured in a swirl of music, murder, insanity, and love?
1. Notes and Memories

To Whom it May Concern,  
I bid you greetings from the bottom of my heart. If you have heard that the Opera Populaire has been bought and restored you have heard correctly. I'd like to invite you to come back to the Opera house and perform one last work of art. If you come you will not be disappointed. I hope to see you soon on the 3rd at 1 PM.  
Sincerely,  
The new owner of the Opera Populaire

That was what the note sent to all the old cast had said. It was written in the red letters- childish letters- that looked like they were written with the tips of burnt matches. The Opera Populaire was remodeled to its' former glory by an unknown man. Rumors spread around Paris quickly, but no one had any notion of who this mystery man was. It was said that not even the people who had worked on the Opera Populaire had seen the manager. They had received instruction by notes and were paid by money in envelopes.

Erik would have signed as O.G., but he thought that that title might scare the old performers away from the Opera house, instead of bringing them back into it like he had hoped. _Don Juan Triumphant _was finally finished, with the exception of a few minor problems he needed to work out of it.

The world would not suspect him- he knew that. A body dead for a few weeks had been found dressed in a suit coat close to the one he himself wore. They thought it was him- any body rotting away might remind them of him. Even Christine thought so- for when he had heard the rumors he went to look at the body himself. The gold band that he had given to Christine was around the corpses' finger. He had taken the gold ring back and it now rested in a small box in his house on the lake, which had been drained when he had bought the Opera Populaire.

It had been five years since the incident.

_"Christine, you must love me!" He had told her in a masterful tone. "How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!" She had shouted back at him, tears stinging her eyes. "Are you very tired?" He asked after a moment. "Oh, tonight I gave you my soul and I am dead!" She replied to him. "Your soul is a beautiful thing, child," Erik had replied in a grave tone, "and I thank you. No emperor ever received so fair a gift. The angels wept tonight."_

Erik sighed deeply, and rubbed the back of his neck to relieve the stress that was building. He stood from the organ, which he had been sitting for the past day and a half. A candle flickered from on top of the organ and he watched it, studying it with his green eyes… eyes plagued by pain.

He walked over to a chair and reached for his cape. Wrapping it around himself and hooking it on, he walked over to a boat. Pulling on a chain that opened the gates into his lair, he began his journey across the lake to reach the Opera house.

'She won't come.' He thought to himself as he paddled. 'She knows you're writing… she has her own husband now.' Those were his thoughts for the whole ride- although he fought his conscious. He had not expected anything else.

He had followed their movements almost as a hobby. Recently he had an excuse- and that was to just bring her back to perform. Why there was a need to speak, to see someone who would understand, he did not know. He did not want to see Christine again although. Unfortunately, she was the only one who fit the star of his _Don Juan Triumphant._ He longed to see his Masterpiece on the stage. Also after it- he could finally be a normal "nobody". It was one of the things he had longed for most of all in his life.

_"…I can't go on living like this, like a mole in a burrow! **Don Juan Triumphant **is finished; and now I want to live like everybody else. I want to have a wife like everybody else and to take her out on Sundays. I have invented a mask that makes me look like anybody. People will not even turn round in the streets. You will be the happiest of women. And we will sing, all by ourselves, till we swoon away with delight. You are crying! You are afraid of me! And yet I am not really wicked. Love me and you shall see! All I wanted was to be loved for myself. If you loved me I should be as gentle as a lamb; and you could do anything with me that you pleased."_

He wondered how he could have ever been so naïve. It was amazing, and oh how he had rambled on about nothing! Something told him that he could change all the past! Unfortunately he knew that he could not, although he tried to convince his mind otherwise. It did not matter! He would soon be a normal "nobody"… like he always wanted.

He jumped out of the boat as the bottom hit the dirt of the lake. He threw the oar into the boat and tied it up. Walking into the shadows he knew that his plan would soon be engaged. He wandered in the shadows of the Opera house, making sure everything was perfect. He awaited one o'clock impatiently.


	2. A Weary Wonderful Cameo

A/n: Unfortunately I do not own Phantom of the Opera or anything in it… -sigh- so don't sue me! You hear me you creepy guys in the suits with the weird glasses! Shoo! Get! Scat!

By the way, I'm not sure if the franc is the right currency, I tried to do some research but it was confusing. So sorry! And if you know could you please tell me?

_Chapter 2: A Weary Wonderful Cameo_

She stood, staring at the large building. It was huge, with as many stories in the air as there had to be below the theater. She could see huge statues sticking out from the roof. Apollo struck her the most, and she dug her hand into the pocket of her worn skirt, searching around for something. Finally gripping her fingers around something, she pulled out a cameo button of Apollo, covered in the sun. On the cameo, Apollo's head of gold stood before the sun, in his chariot riding across the sky. He had always been her favorite. Her father had told her of the story and her mother had given her the cameo at the same moment. Her father used elaborate stories to send her into peaceful dreams at night. It had been her favorite thing above all else. But that was past- and past is meant to stay in the past- until rekindled.

She picked up her bag that she had dropped while staring up at the giant building and continued, passing it. Instead of entering a giant masterpiece, she entered a small apartment house holding a number of people. Walking into it for the first time, she took in her surroundings. The place was awfully dirt- but she had suspected that it would be. Different people sat around talking. A fatter woman with black curly hair, which was in quite a mess, and a missing tooth stood at the desk.

"What do you want, little chere?" She said, in a not-so-nice fashion. The 'chere' part was to mock her, of course. The lady leaned an elbow over the desk, as if to size her up.

"Do you have a bed available Madame?" She asked, stepping closer to the desk. Her hands where in front of her, holding the small bag that she had brought with her. She looked slightly nervous, but she pushed it down and looked the odd woman in the face, awaiting her answer.

"That is if you don't mind sleeping in the same room as others." She sneered.

"That is fine." She said. "How much do you need?"

"Five francs." She said. Clearly it was overpriced. Not only that, but she didn't have that much money on her.

"I'm sorry Madame..." She said softly, "I don't have that much."

The lady glared at her and with a fist planted onto the counter she said rather firmly, "Then you aren't welcome here. Go away _chere_."

The girl gave a quick glare to the lady and walked out of the apartment building with the hollers of drunken men preceding her off.

She slept on a porch of the Opera house that night. It had already been late when she went into the apartment. She would just have to find something to do…

She was just twenty, with red locks and bright blue eyes. Dirt was smudged on her face the next day as she walked into the Opera house looking for work…

(A/n: I know I know, another super short chapter…. But it's late and I'm actually tired for once… Weird isn't it? Well hopefully I'll write more tomorrow… (If I get reviews!))


	3. A threatened disaster

A/n: I see that I have gotten no reviews, which makes me quite sad. But I shall keep my hopes up and pretend that I got some so anybody can read my story…. Oh yes, I don't own this although I wish I did!

_Chapter 3: _

"Raoul!" Christine yelled, dropping the note on the floor as soon as she read it. Her hands were shaking still, and she sat on her bed quietly, eyes searching the room for something that wasn't there.

Raoul came in quickly after hearing her scream. He looked to his wife, concern written on his face clearly. She was staring at the note on the floor when he came in. His eyes went to the note on the floor and then averted back to his gorgeous wife. "What is it, Christine?" He asked, bending down to pick up the only sin in her room. Something that made Christine look like that shouldn't be found in that room.

Christine just looked at the note blankly, something far off in her eyes.

Raoul's eyes read "To Whom It May Concern", the red letters jumping off the page like a sign of death. He turned the bent letter over and gasped at what it said.

**To Whom it May Concern,  
I bid you greetings from the bottom of my heart. If you have heard that the Opera Populaire has been bought and restored you have heard correctly. I'd like to invite you to come back to the Opera house and perform one last work of art. If you come you will not be disappointed. I hope to see you soon on the 3rd at 1 PM.  
Sincerely,  
The new owner of the Opera Populaire**

His eyes went straight to Christine. "I don't want to go back there, Raoul." She said quietly, concern on her pretty features.

"Christine, Christine…" Raoul started, sitting down next to his wife and putting a strong arm around her. "You don't have to. It's only an invitation."

"He's dead, Raoul. He couldn't have written this…" She said, taking the piece of paper from his hand. "And yet I recognize this handwriting all too well. Do you think he's the new owner?"

"I can't say…" Raoul said, looking at Christine. "Both of us know that he has many tricks up his sleeves. But know this, if he threatens you, dear, I will stop him."

"Raoul! How can you say such a thing? Remember the position you and the Persian were in last time?" She questioned, all of her shock gone, her eyebrows pushed together in deep thought. She took his hand and sighed, resting her head on him. "I'm so afraid! Horrors! I don't want to see his face again!"

"Christine, relax." Raoul said, some of the more comforting words of his life (instead of the famous "I'll kill him!"). "Forget about the note."

Christine stood and walked over to the window. She gave the note one last look and threw it out of the window. It fell to the ground below and caught wind making it fly away.

"Let us fly!" She whispered...

_"No, no, you shall never again hear him tell you that he loves you! You shall not see his tears! Let us fly, Christine, let us fly at once!"_

_And he tried to drag her away, then and there. But she stopped him._

_"No, no," she said, shaking her head sadly. "Not now!… It would be too cruel… let him hear me sing to-morrow evening… and then we will go away. You must come and fetch me in my dressing-room at midnight exactly. He will then be waiting for me in the dining-room by the lake… we shall be free and you shall take me away… You must promise me that, Raoul, even if I refuse; for I feel that, if I go back this time, I shall perhaps never return."_

_And she gave a sigh to which it seemed to her that another sigh, behind her, replied._

_"Did you hear?"_

_Her teeth chattered._

_"No," said Raoul, "I heard nothing."_

_"It is too terrible," she confessed, "to be always trembling like this!…"_

The note was forgotten between the two in speech. But it seemed that the horror of it all could not escape either of their minds. A few nights passed and they went on with their lives. On Sunday Raoul took Christine out to dinner and to a show. They completely forgot all about the note. They laughed and laughed at the comedy they watched and when it was time to return home they were bustling with happiness. Reaching the door to their flat, their faces dropped with horror.

An envelope rested on the stairs, leading into the flat. On it was the familiar red letters etched into the paper as if by force completely.

Raoul picked it up and ripped it opened. Inside was another note. He read it quickly and handed it to Christine. She took it with shaking hands. "My god…" She whispered under her breathe as her eyes scanned over the note.

**To Whom It May Concern,**

**I was quite disappointed when not everyone showed to perform. I would advise you to return as soon as possible, unless you would like to be responsible for an unfortunate disaster. I would hope that you would follow this warning.**

**Sincerely,**

**The New Owner of the Opera Populaire**

The couple walked into the house, locking all the doors. Raoul looked to his wife, worry all over her face. "Raoul! I knew he wouldn't stop! Raoul!" She was as white as a sheet. "And now I must go!"

"Christine you don't have to go!" Raoul said, following his distraught wife into another room. He watched helplessly as his wife grabbed a suitcase and began throwing things into it.

"Raoul! He's mad!" Christine said, stopping her packing as she heard what he had said. "He won't stop until his wok is performed and he's willing to destroy thousands of lives for this cause of his!"

Raoul stopped. "The police!" He exclaimed.

"And remember what good they did last time?" Christine said, continuing her packing. She slammed the suitcase shut and picked it up, walking over to the door.

"Christine…" Raoul said, still helpless.

A tear rolled down her face. "You must come see me everyday. I will not face him alone and I'm only going to go to perform. No other reason."

Raoul nodded. They two rode their carriage to the Opera house, hoping that The Phantom of the Opera would not be eager for Christine's love again.

A/n: So what did you think of that? And you haven't learned the big surprise yet either! Hehe…. RandR please!


	4. Dancing on the Stage

A/n: Yay! A review! Thank you thelostboys78! Thank you The Lady Raven! (I don't know about spelling errors… dumb computers… I did spell check. –shrugs-

I do not own any of this!

_Chapter 4:Dancing on the Stage_

She pushed open the doors into the Opera Populaire, studying the glorious welcoming staircase in front of her. The whole place was busy and full of excitement. She recognized some of the people rushing around. Many dancers that had their faces plastered on walls around Paris and she recognized a few of them. She had always inspired to be a dancer, but no one ever seemed to give her a chance. No one noticed her shaggy appearance as she entered the grand Opera house. She reached out and touched the staircase, running her hand up the railing. The whole place was amazing- covered in head to toe with red satin and gold statues- she only wished she could be apart of it.

"Can I help you?" A stern voice said form behind her. She turned to meet a stern woman's gaze. She wore a dark dress and her hair was done up, all piled on her head. She had a stern face, but not mean. Before hearing her voice she knew that she was one that was important- and one not to be trifled with.

"I came looking for a job." The girl with the red hair said, taking her hand away from the railing and stepping forward.

The woman looked at her up and down. "I don't believe we have any room." She answered, turning to leave the girl to show herself out of the theater.

"Oh please Madame!" The girl said before she could stop herself. "I'll clean for you if you need that! Maybe some day I could work up to being a dancer! But I'll do my very best!" She said, almost reaching her hand out to grasp at something that was not in the air.

The Madame turned to look at her again. This time she looked at her body, seeing what kind of a dancer she might be. She glanced to her face. "You may show me what kind of a dancer you are." She answered. "I am Mme. Giry, if you are good I will talk to the owner."

"Oh thank you Madame!" The girl said, bowing her head in appreciation.

"Let us go to the stage, not waste any time." Mme. Giry said. The woman picked up some of her skirt and began up the huge staircase.

The girl quickly picked up her own skirts and followed the woman. As they watched the girl noticed a few stares coming her way. Maybe it was because she was so dirty…

When the two women reached the stage Mme. Giry gestured for the girl to go on stage and dance for her. The girl was too busy staring at the stage in fascination. Her mind was completely into the magnificence of what she saw. Mme. Giry cleared her throat bringing the girl out of her strange state.

The girl clumsily gasped at her own foolishness and dropped her single bag. She removed a small bonnet that was resting atop her red curls. She removed her shoes and walked onto the stage.

As she began to dance, a passion began to be shown through her. It was easy to detect that she loved dancing almost more than anything. She moved her arms as she danced and twirled. Her eyes were closed as she did this and all the clumsiness in her was gone.

Mme. Giry watched the young girl dance with a small smile on her lips. She had seen enthusiasm like that before. The girl twirled again and ended her dance and the imaginary music that had surrounded her while she danced disappeared.

"What is your name?" Mme. Giry asked the girl as she struggled to put her shoe back on, rather clumsily.

The girl looked at the older woman. She smiled and blushed slightly when she said her name. "Ana Marquette." She said softly, "My mother was a famous dancer, though I never knew her real name."

Mme. Giry nodded. "You have an interesting style." She said, "If you would like a spot I will talk to the new owner."

A smile touched Ana's soft features. "Much appreciated, Madame." She said with a hopeful glee written all over her face.

"Do you have a place to stay, my dear?" The woman asked, sternly still. She watched as the girl put her bonnet back on her head and tied it under her chin.

"No…" Ana said, looking to the ground. "I can always find somewhere with time."

"Nonsense." Mme. Giry said, with a firm nod of her head. "Wait here, I must speak to the owner."

With that she left Ana sitting by the stage, holding her bag awkwardly to the side of her.

Mme. Giry began her search for the new owner of the Opera Populaire.

A/n: I know, such short chapters! But it seemed like a good place to end this chapter. By the way… I don't think I'm going to make a love story with Ana and Erik, as you might've thought. I don't think this is going to be much of a love story for Erik… Anyway, Well! I hope everyone likes this so far!


	5. Entrances

A/n:

My thanks to Mominator, RilkaGreenRider! I'm so happy I got reviews! Oh and Mominator, maybe there will be if I feel like a romantic person (-cough-)… Also, I've fixed some of the spelling. Thanks for telling me what was wrong!

I don't own this sadly… Will you stop rubbing it in!

_Chapter 5:_

Christine held Raoul's hand as she stepped out of the carriage. As her foot touched the street she noticed a note pinned to the door of the Opera house. Oh! What was she going to do? How could she face theater again- face singing with Erik waiting for her presence inside? She took a deep breath and leaned onto Raoul, who was waiting to support her. After a moment, she turned and gave Raoul an embrace and a kiss. She squeezed his hand and then let go, walking behind someone who had her belongings. She walked up to the door and opened the letter hanging on the door. The letter was the same as the letter she had gotten at her home. In the childish red letters it said,

**To Whom it May Concern,  
I thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming here today. The Opera house is to be opened for one thing alone while I am the owner. This Performance is to be called _Don Juan Triumphant_. If you do not consent to performing this masterpiece, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. You will also be paid quite well for your services. To those that have not joined us this day, I will send them another carefully written note. You may use the rooms in the Opera house just like you would use the rooms in your own houses. But I must insist that you do not venture below the ground level. It is your own life you risk when you do that. Practice will begin in two days at 10 A.M.  
Sincerely,  
The New Owner of the Opera Populaire**

She sighed deeply once more and pushed the doors of the Opera house open. She was met with memories of the grand Opera Populaire brought to life.

_At the same time, a different part of the theater…_

Erik sighed again, watching as two rat girls bounced off across the back of the theater. He remembered another moment he had been in the same shadowy corner, watching next to a trap door. Christine had been the bouncing dancer then. She had looked around all of the hallways, searching for his voice. As she called to him once again, he only chuckled. "_Do not worry, child."_ He had whispered into her right ear, _"You will see me eventually."_ She only pouted, saying that she could no wait. A small smile spread across the phantom's lips. "Oh Christine…." He whispered to himself.

"Erik!" A voice took him out of his own mind. It was Mme. Giry. "I must speak with you."

"What is it?" Erik said to her in a comforting voice. There were not many he used this tone of voice with, but Mme. Giry had earned it from him. She was the assistant manager after all. She would deal with people and take orders from him. He paid her well for her efforts, just as he had when she seated box five.

"I wish to speak with you about a new dancer." The woman said, looking around in search of him. He did not let himself be seen to her or anyone else. He sighed before he answered.

"We have enough." Told her, almost disappointed that she was asking about something as trivial as a new dancer.

Mme. Giry sighed as well. Then, she stood upright to reach her full height. "Monsieur, I must ask you to reconsider. Although we have enough dancers, she has a certain quality that most of out own dancers to not have."

Erik shook his head. He had more important things to worry about besides enrolling a new dancer. Ah- what was the point in arguing when he could just let her? Then he could get back to his own work…

"If you must." He told her, in a quick tone. Frankly that tone meant he didn't care. Mme. Giry bowed her head at the darkness and walked off. 'Maybe some talent will do us well.' Erik thought to himself, disappearing into darkness.

A few minutes later by the stage… 

'I wonder what the owner will say…' Ana thought as she hit her foot against a seat to pass time, 'who is the owner anyway? I'll have to ask someone.'

"I'll show you to a room." Mme. Giry said, walking into the theater. Ana jumped up with a smile spread across her face. "Oh thank you Madame!"

Mme. Giry nodded and brought Ana to a room. It wasn't anything special. In fact, the room was very dirty. When she was left alone (and after thanking Mme. Giry once more) she put her small bag on the bed. The room was in the back of the Opera house, which explained a lot. No guest would ever see it.

A big smile was still over Ana's face and it stayed there even when she was asleep.

A/n: It will start getting interesting now! In the next chapter: Erik will learn Christine's there and try to socialize with her! Ana will be dancing for the first time… and I'm not giving away anymore! You must read!


	6. Singing and Falling

A/n: Mominator124, Yes I know, but what are they going to do? They don't know who this the owner is so they can't arrest him or anything? And also, when has the Phantom worried about such things?

Okay Stewie, tell them all….

Stewie from Family Guy: "What? Oh damn! Blast! I'll kill you… infantile…. We do not own this story… or the blasted song that she took for this…. although I will when I take over the world!

Kaledena: Oh Stewie… you're so cute. And Rupert too!

Stewie: Yes, and I'm sure you lost your virginity to a mechanical bull, now change me!

Kaledena: At least I didn't try to seduce Miss Piggy… –raises eyebrow at Stewie-

Stewie: Blast!

_Chapter 6:_

Christine stared at a small withered red rose on her vanity. It was quite old- a few months at least. Around the stem there was a black satin ribbon. It reminded her… no, she wouldn't think about that. Not then… The candles danced around her, making the shadows play along the old room. Everything was exactly as she had left it. Almost as if she didn't leave it behind at all… but she knew that the Opera house was remodeled to its original stature.

"Christine…" A small voice seemed to echo throughout the room. She imagined that it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but how could she be sure? She was almost positive that Erik was the new owner… maybe it was all just a coincidence?

'Nothing here is coincidence…' A voice in the back of her mind tugged and pulled into her upfront thoughts.

'Maybe the Owner thought that it would be funny to remind us all of his presence?' She argued with the growing voice. But she didn't need the small voice in the back of her mind to tell her that something was not right. Not right at all.

Without being able to stop herself, she called into the silence of the room. "Erik?" She asked carefully.

'Why are you calling to him? You don't want to see him Christine! What do you think you're doing?' It practically spat at her. 'Shut up!' She retorted in her mind. Suddenly there was a sound. A soft sound… a voice!

"_And in the dark he sits alone,  
to watch his final hours bleeding  
While unconcerned upon the wall  
the clock ticks away the time_

_No need for words in the dark  
All words have long since lost their meaning  
Still when they whisper in his ear  
He tries to read between the lines_

_What I see in the night  
what I feel in your heart  
All your dreams, all your lies  
Can you tell them apart?"_

It came from all around the room. From the walls… the ceiling…. The floor… The voice was soft. It was comforting in a way… and all of a sudden she was caught in a daze that she had not felt in so long… the voice was with her… the voice was _everywhere_.

And suddenly again, she couldn't fight it. She was a slave to it! What could she possible do but follow his eerie voice? What if her mind was playing tricks on her? What if she was going insane?

Erik's POV 

She had called to him! And how could he not contain himself and call back to her? Sure, his voice had some sort of spell upon her but she had called to him without being provoked! It meant everything to him…. Absolutely all that he ever wanted had come true! And this time, the Vicomte de Chagny was nowhere to be seen. He could not save her this time…

He sang again, continuing with the song.

"_The hands on the clock_

_Are you watching them turn?  
For your candle is quite low,  
we've been watching it burn_

_Do you lie here awake,  
as the shadows look on?  
Should they cry for your sake?  
Should you sleep in their arms?_

_For the shadows see all  
and they rarely forget  
every dream that you've had,  
every act you regret."_

As the song finished, Christine was walking over to the mirror, examining it. She extended her hand and touched the reflective material lightly. Erik was just about ready to reveal himself to her when a knock came at the door.

Swearing in his mind, Erik took his hand away from the lever that his hand had been threatening to pull. He watched as Christine's attention went from the mirror to the door.

"Yes?" She called in a timid voice. She took a few steps away from the mirror. Erik was cursing everything in his mind at that time. The woman was Mme. Giry. She was dressed in her long black dress she seemed to never go without. Her back was straight and her eyes were sharp. She was a woman of pride no doubt. Erik sighed. He could never stay mad at Mme. Giry no matter how hard he tried. She was one of the smartest people at the Opera, and she did trust him. Recently (after he had asked her to come back), he had talked to her aloud instead of with notes, as he did a lot. Sometimes it would pass the time, other times it was simply for business.

A small smile lit on the older woman's face. 'Christine." She simply stated as a greeting.

Christine smiled widely, but her face still had a look of terror on it.

"What's the matter, my dear?" Mme. Giry asked, suddenly worried. She probably had a good idea of what was wrong.

Christine took a step toward her, and then looked around the room as if to inspect it. After satisfied, although still on her toes, she looked back to Mme. Giry.

She took a deep breath and whispered, although Erik could hear her words, "Madame… This new owner… do I know him?"

Mme. Giry sighed and looked to the floor. She looked back up to the awaiting woman and said very sternly, "I advise you to not think about the owner, Christine."

Christine's face grew pale. She had to know. All the color again drained from her face. She was afraid of him. Yet how could he think she would be? How could she be happy to see him? He was an angel of death.

"Come, child," Mme. Giry said to Christine, "We have much to discuss."

Erik walked further into his lair, a look of sadness on his masked face. A maniacal laugher was echoing in his memory. The picture of the chandelier falling was also there. The look of terror on Christine's face matched back then- only worse. When he reached his organ, all his worries were dissolved into the notes that flowed from his fingers.

In two days: Start of Rehearsal, 9:30 

Ana frowned as the rat girls chattered along side of her. They spoke of the mysterious owner. Her hand was stretched over her head and reaching for her toes. Her red hair was pulled out of her face but a few strains lingered downwards.

"You know, many think that the new owner is the ghost of the Phantom of the Opera." One of them said, pulling her leg up in front of her face as a stretch.

"Who ever he is, he must be rich." Another remarked.

"If it is the Phantom of the Opera, do you think he'll kill us?"

"What about Christine?"

"Whoever he is," Ana interrupted, "He seems very nice."

"Only because he took pity on you." One of them scowled at her.

Ana looked to the floor, knowing that this could probably be true. After all, why would he need another dancer off the streets? Oh well, she would show them… she'd be a great dancer! After all, how hard could it be?

Five hours later 

"Pick up your feet Ana!" Mme. Giry called out to her. She did as was told, and Mme. Giry stopped scolding her that moment. She seemed to always be doing something wrong- but then again so was everyone else. Mme. Giry was a stern woman and quite a perfectionist when it came to dancing. Ana knew that she was a very good woman nonetheless, and she herself was quite the perfectionist when it came to certain things.

"You need to twirl more slowly Maria!" She heard Mme. Giry shout out at another dancer. It was time for a jump. Ana twirled once more and started off into the jump. She felt alive when she was dancing; this was all she could ever want. She wasn't looking for love- just happiness.

As she came down on the jumped she stepped on someone and went tumbling to the ground. A cry escaped her lips and the dancing and music stopped. She yelled at herself mentally.

"That is enough for now, girls." Mme. Giry said, looking around. "You may take a fifth teen minute break."

Ana heard giggling as the girls walked away. She sighed as Mme. Giry walked over to her and held a hand out. Ana took it gratefully.

"I'm sorry Madame… I lost focus for a moment." Ana said quietly, "I promise I'll do better."

"Everyone has fallen, Ana." Mme. Giry said to her, with a small smile at her lips. "You were doing fine until you hit the ground. In fact, you were the one that had the passion for it."

"Yes but I'm so clumsy!" She said, hitting her fist against herself to remind herself not to fall in front of everyone again.

"You know I was clumsy when I was younger." Mme. Giry told her, resting her hand on Ana's shoulder for support. "You'll grow out of it."

"I hope so." Ana said, sighing.

"You're okay?" She asked, looking at Ana to make sure she wasn't hurt.

"I'll be alright." Ana said, smiling.

"Go get a drink." Mme Giry said, taking her hand off of Ana's shoulder. She gave Ana a smile and walked away. Ana walked into the pit of laughing rat girls…

**A/n:** Woohoo... long chapter! Sorry it was delayed, I had writers block for a few days there. Well... this is getting more interesting no? And you still ahven't learned the big secret! Don't worry, you'll find out in a few chapters... I'm just going to torture you by bringing it up constantly! haha... I'm evil. Well, yes... Thanks to all reviewers!


	7. Chance Meetings

A/n: Wow! I got a review! Yay! Not only that but I'm quite into writing this story at the moment… so I'm going to try and make an extra long chapter…

Kaledena: I don't own PotO! Yet…

Stewie: … Blast damn woman…

Kaledena: Go to your sexy party Stewie… I don't want to deal with you right now….

Stewie: Ooo… Sexy parties! –dances with girls in white sailor suit-…

Kaledena: Oo.. I don't own the song I'm going to use either…. If I use one…

_Chapter 7:Chance Meetings_

"I've never seen you before." A voice said from behind her. Ana's deep red locks whirled around her as she turned to see the person who was speaking. She smiled as she recognized the old Prima Donna, Christine Daae. The Prima Donna smiled back at her, though she seemed more than a little spooked. Christine looked around the stage, as if she was looking for someone… or something.

Ana followed her gaze but saw nothing. "Are you alright?" She asked.

This seemed to make Christine realize she was there once again. She smiled, trying to hide what she was doing. "I'm Christine." She said, slightly embarrassed.

"Ana Marquette." She said, smiling, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Enchante." Christine said happily. "I saw you dancing."

Ana shrugged, "I'm not very good yet."

"You will be." She answered.

"Forgive me for asking Madame…" Ana said, looking from the ground to the woman. On Christine's face grew a confused look. "But do you know who the Phantom of the Opera is? The other girls were speaking about him… and they said that you knew him. Is he the new manager?"

"I don't know." Christine said, gaining a worried expression, "He… should be dead."

Ana nodded, 'I wonder why everyone is so spooked about him.' Until reaching this theater, Ana had never heard about the Phantom of the Opera- besides the rumors on the streets about how he was supposedly the new owner.

"I wonder why everyone thinks he's alive then." Ana said, bemused.

"You haven't heard the stories, have you?" Christine said, smiling at Ana.

"I'd don't think I want to." Ana said firmly, with a hand squeezing her skirt. "I should like to keep on thinking that this new owner is a nice man who just wants some peace and quiet."

"I should very much hope so too, Ana." Christine said, sighing. Suddenly she had a playful manner about her. "I don't know much about dancing, but if you want I could help you after regular practice."

"Come ladies!" Mme. Giry's voice reigned in the background, cause Ana to practically jump in her tights.

"I'd much appreciate that, Madame!" She smiled at Christine.

The woman returned the smile, "Its just Christine."

"Christine." Ana repeated, almost as if she was getting a feel for it. She smiled and hoped of to practice.

Later on after Christine's help with Ana 

"You're learning quickly, Ana. Have you danced before?" Christine asked, as the two girls walked in the dormitories of the Opera house.

"My mamma used to teach me." Ana said, looking at the ground, "I stopped dancing when she died." Christine nodded, assuming that Ana didn't want to talk about it.

As Christine reached her room, she turned to Ana. "I'll teach you more tomorrow. If you need anything I'll be here."

"Thanks Christine." Ana said, walking away as she heard a click from Christine's door. Ana continued down the hallway; dragging herself along the corridors. She was exhausted- a good kind of tired. She had worked hard all day- and yet it was just eight! She sighed and came to a turn in the hallway. She turned the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. There in the hallway in front of her was a ghost!

It was no ghost though- it seemed to be a phantom. Ana gasped aloud when the phantom turned toward her. He looked her up and down for a second. He was covered head to toe in a black men's suit. A cape fluttered around him as he turned. On his face there was a white mask, covering most of the top section of his face. He smirked at her and was then gone before she had any time to react.

As she stood, wide-eyed, she had somehow known who he was. She silently cursed herself for not thinking quickly enough! She could have spoken to him! She somehow knew that it was the Phantom of the Opera- the new owner. She searched around her brain for something she could call out to him. For some reason 'Opera Ghost', 'The Phantom of the Opera', or 'the new owner' was not right. She walked over to where he stood and looked around, searching for something that could help him make his escape. She was running out of time! 'Say something!' Her mind yelled at her.

"Monsieur?" She said, looking around. "I do not know what to call you. I hope friend may work?" Her voice cut into the silence like a knife cutting through melted butter. "Friend?" She repeated.

She sighed, how could he just ignore her? Of course if that was who she had thought he must be awfully busy….

**(Stewie: **-runs in and hits authoress on the head with a large blunt object- yessssss! I have taken over this story! Muahahahaha! Now for my first act, I'd like to congratulate a few people… Well… there's god… and… I'm so unprepared! Oh my! –Shuffles through note cards- and uh… Satan…

**Kaledena:** -wakes up and gets Mrs. Griffen to take away Stewie-

**Stewie:** Damn you woman! I'll get you yet!

**Kaledena**: Wow…. That was…. Unexpected…

Erik's POV 

_Friend?_ Where did that come from? She didn't know him and yet she treated him with respect without fear. He was right below her feet as she walked on top of him. He was not the master of trap doors for nothing. Something inside him stirred from that simple word. _Friend._ As it was, the Persian seemed the closest thing to a friend that he had had. And what a friend he was! Coming into his home when Erik had almost killed him more than once!

And who was this girl? He had never seen her before. Was it not him who wrote all the invitations by hand? Blast! The one girl Mme. Giry liked! How could she be so naive? She must have been a good dancer for Mme. Giry to be so persistent!

"Friend, I want to thank you." Her voice above continued. Erik's brow tightened in confusion. Thank him? "And let you know that I'm keeping my eyes opened for you."

Erik almost chuckled. Playing with fire, eh? Well if she would play with fire she might as well get burned! A small maniacal laugh escaped his mouth and it echoed throughout the corridor above.

Ana's POV 

"So you think that's funny, do you?" She said bitterly to herself and the "Friend".

Her response was met with silence. She sighed, and started to walk down the corridor once again. "… Doesn't need friends." She heard as she was retreating. She missed the first part of the sentence but put the rest together to form a response.

"Everyone needs friends." She said, turning on her heel.

"No! You're lying!" The mad voice called back to her.

"Lie, sir? I would not in this situation!" She called back, most annoyed that he assumed her to be lying. "And besides, you must have one friend if not your own imagination?" She inquired.

Again there was silence. She sighed deeply. "At least I know I'm not dreaming…" She whispered to herself, "Or maybe I'm going out of my head." With that she walked into her own room and closed the door gently shut behind her. She stayed next to the door; her heart was still beating wildly. "Friend" had made an interesting question pop up into her head. _"… Doesn't need friends."_ How could anyone say that? And what if she was going completely mad? It was not unlikely; her mental stability had been on a ledge for a few years. What if it decided it wanted to take the jump?

It was suppertime, and she was expected to go and eat something with the rest of the rat girls. She just didn't feel like going though! She hated the rest of the rat girls, and dancing with them all day was enough! Besides, she wasn't hungry. Her mind was racing with questions about this mysterious "friend". And why was Christine so afraid when she spoke of him? He did not seem bad at all… although a little insane.

The Persian's POV: 1 A.M. 

"Erik! Erik!" He shouted, standing at the banks of the lake. He had long ago given up on sneaking up on Erik or trying to hide form him. If he was there he might as well let Erik know it. It was much better than the man trying to kill him.

"What do you want Daroga?" Erik hissed at him. Oh he seemed so annoyed by anyone trying to see him! The Persian stood, looking around for the fiend. A familiar mask came into view from the darkness and two yellow eyes stared at him.

"Erik! What do you think you're doing?" The Persian said, looking at Erik intensely. "Starting the theater up again?"

Erik sighed and walked into the light. The yellow that was his eyes was instantly gone.

"Daroga, don't come back here for a week! You'll see what I'm doing then! And if you come back you'll wish you hadn't! I swear Daroga!" He said, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasis.

"Just answer me this, Erik." The Persian began but was interrupted.

"If I answer will you leave and not come back in a week? Daroga, I am warning you! Don't come back for a week!" Erik said.

"I won't come back." The Persian said, looking at Erik and shaking his head, "You're not planning to hurt Christine Daae are you?"

"Hurt her?" Erik said, shocked, "How could I hurt her? That innocent girl! She's such a good girl, you know."

The Daroga continued, "Erik, don't hurt Christine or the Vicomte de Changy!"

"Why would I hurt them? She's such a good girl! If one person touches a hair on her head!…"

It was the Persian's turn to interrupt. "Erik, Please don't. If only you knew about…"

"I grow tired of this Daroga!" Erik said, sighing, "Don't come back until a week has passed." With that, the insane genius got into his boat and rowed to the house on the lake. As the Daroga watched him leave he sighed. What would Erik do once he knew? The Persian began back into the Opera house, shaking his head as he walked.

**A/n: **Yay, even for me typing it it's getting more interesting… Well… Soon Erik will know. And what about this connection between Ana and Erik? Ana and Christine? What does the Daroga know! (I'm evil…-snicker- Well you'll find out in the next three chapters. Thanks to all my reviewers! Lonely Loony! Thanks! I hope other's will RandR! 3


	8. The Big Secret!

**A/n: **Okay… sorry about the confusing in last chapter… I'm not sure what was so confusing though… all the POV switches? Well… that was supposed to be that way…. I'm warning you that there's a little bit of CR fluff in this chapter… I'm listening to a love song, I can't help it! But I'm finally going to reveal the big secret… if you can call it big. Who wants to see it coming? Well… Okay… Stewie…. Oh! My brother's idea for him taking over the last chapter!

Stewie: What? It was my idea wench!

Kaledena: I think you need a mouth washing… with that icky soap….

Stewie: She owns this! She owns this!

Kaledena: YOU LIE! I don't own this people! –sweatdrop- -takes away Stewie for a mouth washing….-

_Chapter 8: The Big Secret_

"Christine?" A voice said from behind her dressing room door. She knew who it was before she let him in. She smiled happily and opened then door. Staring back at her, with his piercing eyes was Monsieur Raoul de Changy himself. Her smile grew wider as she threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up gently and swirled her around in their embrace. Setting her down, he smiled and shut the door.

"Are you okay?" He said, gaining a worried expression on his handsome features. As she began to walk across the room he followed her and put his arms around her from behind. He kissed her neck softly as she wrapped her own arms around his in front of her.

She smiled and leaned her body on his. "I'm doing as good as I can right now." She sighed and continued. "I'm either going mad or he tried to communicate with me."

"Are you sure it's not just memories haunting you?" Raoul said, turning her to look at him. He stared her in the eye with a loving expression set in his eyes. She sighed and looked back at him.

"He sang to me." Christine said, her face beginning to grow trouble with the thought.

"Christine… Christine…" Raoul said very softly, which was a soothing comfort to her ears, "If you want to leave I'll make it so you can. Just say the word… I'll find him… I won't let him hurt you."

Christine leaned her head on her husband's chest. She breathed deeply. "Raoul I'm frightened. I was lost in his voice again. I- I called to him. Oh Raoul! I didn't want to! I called with all my soul and he answered! I'm so frightened… so afraid…" She shook in his arms and started shaking her head, almost ready to pound on his chest.

Raoul brought her head to his lips and rubbed her back soothingly. He looked at her and with his free hand he put his hand on her stomach. "I won't let anything happen to you or our baby, I promise."

Christine looked up at him, smiling as tears began to form in her beautiful eyes. "I love you." She whispered as she wrapped her arms around him in a tight hold. Raoul kissed her softly. He kissed her and kissed her. Oh his beautiful Christine frightened by that monster? I thought he would leave them alone? Isn't that a gift? But no! He still loved his beautiful Christine!

"I know you won't…" Christine said, as their lips parted, "Don't let me fall into darkness again Raoul."

Raoul smiled down at her and tried to comfort her with a look that he would give her. He wouldn't let that monster touch Christine! Not again! No more spells… no more of this Angel of Music.

**A/n:** I know this was a really, really short chapter! But I had to end it there.. it was a perfect place to end don't you think? I'll start writing the next chapter ASAP! I love you my reviewers! I can't believe you've reviewed so much!


	9. A Mysterious Violin

**A/n:** This chapter is a bit confusing but it's suppose to be. It was really stir of the moment and I needed to do something with a twist! Yay the world is falling around everyone! I don't own this btw!

_Chapter 9:_

It had been a few days since Erik had made conversation with the strange girl that called him "friend". He had basically forgotten about the whole incident, except he remembered that the young girl and Christine where getting along famously. After rehearsal Christine was spending all of her time with the Vicomte, Meg, Mme. Giry, or this strange girl. He had begun to convince himself that she was just a stupid rat girl looking for answers from the Opera Ghost himself! But how she had attracted Christine! And what right had she to call him friend?

Erik sat at his organ, fingering at a key with his pointer finger as he stared into a pit of nothingness. He had a few thoughts on his mind, but nothing that was worth wasting the whiteness on a page of paper. His eyes rested on a gold box on top of the organ. He simply stared, an amused look plastered over his face underneath the mask. His plan? Who was he kidding? There was no plan besides get _Don't Juan Triumphant _performed. Truthfully, he did not want to see the Persian. His friend, if that was what you could call him. Only a true friend would come into his house knowing that he could be truly killed for no other reason than wearing the wrong shoes, was not one to come up to Erik in that way! So the daroga was much smarter than he imagined? What was he saying? He gave the daroga much less credit than he should! Always he had done this. The Persian had in fact saved his life! Of course Erik had certainly repaid this debt. He had saved him from the clutches of death twice! Of course, it didn't matter to Erik that the circumstances in which the Persian was in danger where because of he!

The box laughed at him as he stared at it. "Do you really want to laugh?" He asked the box, chuckling after the words had came out of his mouth. Apparently the box kept laughing at him. He laughed harshly at it. "So you do!" He called out. He stood, grabbing the box in one hand. He was about to throw it but he stopped himself. He placed it back down carefully. "Christine would not appreciate Erik if he did that." He wiped the box of gently and opened it. There was red satin cushioning surrounding the inside of the box. Resting on that cushioning was a gold band; the ring he had given to Christine.

He looked at the box for a few minutes, remembering the conversation he had had with the Persian when he thought his life was ending. With love, it was ending; love for Christine. He remembered telling the Persian that Christine, the darling girl, if she kept to her word she would come and place the ring on his bony finger. She would touch his bony finger of death without fright just to make his happiness! The innocent, sweet, caring, girl!

Erik sighed and closed the box as quickly as he could. He carefully picked it up and moved it to the back of the organ where the shadows would cover it. It didn't matter! He could see famously in the dark and he couldn't keep his eyes away anyway! He snapped them shut and put a hand on the back of his neck. Both his hands and his neck where like ice!

He needed to play something but he couldn't. Erik not being able to play music? Insane! A dream! It must be. Erik pinched himself. No… not any dream. And anyway, Erik did not have dreams! He hardly slept enough to have dreams! He sighed, racking through his brain for some reasonable explanation. There was none.

His pinky finger tapped on the treble section of his organ as he searched for an answer. His eyebrows tensed together in frustration and he removed himself from the seat of the organ. Instead, he walked over to a violin and picked it up. He needed to stop thinking so much! This was not right! Not right at all! Was he finally losing that small amount in his brain that let him think for himself? He began to play the violin and instantly felt better. He had no idea what he was playing but he let his long deathly fingers run across the neck of the violin. He played and played and played. He couldn't think. The music had swept him away once again. He witched songs suddenly but still had no idea what h was playing. He felt better and the thoughts that had assaulted his mind before vanished. A few minutes passed. A few hours. Suddenly he stopped what he was playing as the memories swarmed him once again. He knew exactly what he was playing. It was what Christine's father used to play to her. Suddenly rage hit him hard. He didn't want to think about them! For the first time in months he had stopped thinking altogether! He smashed the violin without knowing what he did.

Swaggering back to the organ, he sat again and stared at his hands. All the rage was gone and he just stared into nothingness again. Then he looked to the floor. A piece of wood was in his view.

"A piece of wood?" He said aloud, staring at it without a thought of where it came from. "Where'd you come from?" He spoke to it. The he saw another piece of wood! Where were they coming from? His eyes followed the trail of wood that had been left on the floor. He gasped when he saw the remains of the broken violin. He stared for a few minutes and then a tear came to his eye. Who had done this? Destroyed something so beautiful? He would find who did it. They would pay for the beauty they destroyed!

_A few days later…_

The Persian didn't come back. There was no reason for his disappearance. Erik was questioning his "friend". His friend had never been late before! Never! Erik paced around, waiting for him. What was taking him so long? Erik needed to ask him about the violin! Had the Persian known who had destroyed the violin? He could not imagine. He was sitting at the piano! Who could sneak up on him like that? Impossible!

Erik began talking to himself. He sighed and sat down. What was there left to do? He would have to search for the Persian? He was a "friend", and the Daroga had never, never done this to him before! Maybe the daroga was afraid of what Erik would do to him. Maybe he really did care… 'Oh just go look for him!' He mind yelled at him.

He got into his boat and began the trip back to the edge of the lake. He began traveling through the Opera house. In a moment he was standing in the hallway that led to the third floor through a stairway not far away. Erik was staring at the ground in front of him. He had been standing there for an hour, just staring at the ground. He couldn't think… he was too horrified to move.

On the ground in front of him lay his good friend. But the daroga was not like he usually was. He was not looking at Erik nervously; he wasn't calling to him like he usually did. He just stared at Erik. He was not trying to make Erik give him and answer or promise him something. His friend, the daroga, the Persian, was dead.

**A/n:** So what did you think of that? Mmmh? Did you see it coming? I certainly didn't. I had no idea what was coming out of my fingers as I wrote this. Please RandR!


	10. A Performance and a Fall

**A/n: Well, yes, thanks for the reviews! .. one review… anyway… yes. Deranged a bit? The last chapter was so random but I needed to let that part out. Not only that, but it made a plot for the story which I'll probably jump away from for a little while. In a few chapters that plot will come back and I'll juggle a few for a while. Sorry it's been confusing, it is a mystery no? I don't own anything!**

_Chapter 10:_

_Dear Diary,_

_I know this is rather delayed then my other writings. My time has been filled up recently. What with dancing with Christine after regular practice and searching for this "friend", I've got my work cut out for me! It seems strange that this "ghost" (and I will say that lightly) could live in the Opera Populaire all this time without someone finding him! Also if "friend" is the new owner, he must have someone helping him!_

_I've decided that it's time to investigate. I've asked everyone I possibly could about him and everyone keeps telling me he either doesn't exist or they go on and on about how dangerous he is! He didn't seem very dangerous when I saw him- maybe a bit weird, but not dangerous! Christine has told me some of the stories- just to tame my interest in the "Opera Ghost". They haven't tamed my interest all. In fact, they probably made me even more curious._

_I'm going down below- even though the note, which the whole cast is aware of, said not to. I need to meet this ma; this ghost; this "friend". I wonder what I will find down there… I've heard rumors of many things. I know I risk my life to find this knowledge but I'm afraid that I have no choice. My conscious mind won't let me rest until I know! I'm going to write a very short note to "friend" telling him of these plans. I will assure him that I mean no harm… But these childish fantasies betray me!_

_If these stories are true… I will be in grave danger. I hope for the best, and if I do live you will hear from me again as soon as I can get a hold of myself._

_Ana_

**Friend,**

**I must inform you that I'm venturing into your layer. There is no possible reason for this. In fact, I believe that I am going out of my head with so many different outcomes. If I should die by your hand, I would like to at least give you my name and a slight reason for disobeying you. I need this knowledge! I hope that you will at least allow me to introduce myself and ask a few questions if it is my destiny to die while I venture alone. I'm waiting one day for you to find this letter. I'll hopefully find you tomorrow.**

**Ana**

Ana left this note on the ground of the third story, one below the ground level. It was the middle of night, and she hoped "Friend" would find it soon. Ana wandered back to her room and sat on the bed. She stared at the ground in front of her with lost eyes. It could be her final night alive. The thought went around and around inside her brain. Without living her dream as well. There was a performance the following evening and she assumed that after that she would find her "friend".

The following night she sat in the same place, trying to pull her pantyhose on. They were white and they clashed with the red dancing outfit she had on. She liked the way it looked, even though she would not be unique. She sighed as the pantyhose stuck to her skin. Pulling at them, they spread across her skin. "I _hate_ these!" She said, sitting back against the bed. Only twenty minutes left. It was her first performance and, even though she had been practicing ten times more than the rest of the dancers, she was nervous beyond belief. She sat on the floor and stretched again. Bending her waist across her leg she felt her muscles stretch and then she let go. The muscles relaxed and she was ready. Fifth teen more minutes.

Ana pulled on the red costume over herself and sighed, 'It could be your last night.' The thought repeated itself in her mind.

"I'm not afraid." She told herself out loud. She wasn't very good at lying to herself. Still, the voice inside her head calmed a bit and she stopped shaking so much.

The performance went well, Ana thought. She hadn't messed up badly at all and she had perfect timing. She was getting better and she felt that her clumsiness was starting to go away. She was wrong. As she walked down through the lower levels she fell over something and hit a furnace. She wasn't hurt, even though the furnace was hot, but the noise that was made echoed throughout the lower levels.

"So much for that." She thought out loud. She sat on the ground for a few more minutes and thought about what she was doing. "This is crazy."

She stood to her full height slowly and continued down the long path. When she came to the place she had placed the note, she noticed that it was no longer there. That, at least, was a good thing. She didn't notice the pair of yellow eyes watching her every step.

**A/n: Sorry this chapter was so short! But I've got to go and I figured that you might want to read a little bit more… Well, I'm not updating again until I get at least 3 more reviews! Humph. Actually that's probably a lie… Oh well, I'll pretend. RandR please! 3**


	11. A Confession From Mme Giry

**A/n: Well I hope you all are enjoying this story… I'm having trouble continuing... I don't know why. But I'll keep trying to update! I don't own it!**

_Chapter 11: The Confession of Mme. Giry_

"Where's Ana?" Christine asked Mme. Giry. They were supposed to meet after the performance. Maybe Ana forgot about her? She hadn't forgotten about Christine once before this night… though she had been talking about the Phantom of the Opera a lot. More than just to be a coincidence. Christine sighed as she awaited the answer from her old teacher. She had already waited for someone to answer from Ana's small room and she waited there for at least five minutes. The Opera house had many more rooms than it used to- though how she had no idea. There wasn't any more property but the rooms seemed just as big, if not bigger, than before. This also meant that everyone could have there own room, though why this was done she did not know.

Mme. Giry looked at Christine fiercely. Usually Mme. Giry was so calm with Christine; she was an old friend. But now, Mme. Giry's manner of the situation told her that something was not right. Her brow squished itself together.

"Whatever she ahs done, it is her own fault. She will have consequences to face, I assure you."

Christine stopped herself from glaring at her friend. She shook her head, "So you know where she is then?" She questioned. Mme. Giry looked at Christine as she opened the door into her room. Her long black dress dragged slightly across the ground as she went in and found the dresser. She turned her back to Christine as Christine followed her in and shut the door behind her.

"You don't want to get involved again, do you?" Mme. Giry asked, deep in her accent. She looked back to Christine after she said this, sadness in her eyes. Her face was stern though, and Christine knew she really did care.

"It would seem by just being here I'm already involved Mme." Christine said calmly. She looked around the dimly lighted room and ten back to Mme. Giry. "It's Erik, isn't it?"

Mme. Giry sighed once again. "He has been living in the Opera house since they stopped looking for him. I've only found this out from notes myself. He's just recently started speaking with me from the shadows… and I fear that Mlle. Ana has let her curiosity take the best of her. You know very well what the note had said!" Mme. Giry sat back in a chair. "I received a few notes from him myself for a few years now. I've known all along." Saying this, she stood back up and opened a drawer from the dresser. She fumbled around in the drawer for a few minutes. Christine watched patiently as Mme. Giry did this. When Mme. Giry seemed to find what she was looking for, she looked back to Christine and held a few tattered envelopes out to her. As Christine took the letters carefully from the older woman's hand, she noted that Mme. Giry was shaking.

Looking from Mme. Giry to her hands, she read the childish letters that she knew all too well. It seemed the Mme. Giry was living far away from Paris at that time. The walked over to a chair and sat down. When she had caught herself enough she carefully opened the envelopes and pulled out the tattered letters. Her eyes went over the old paper before she began to read. As she read, she noticed that this was the last letter that he had sent her. The letter was in French and Christine read it in her mind a few times.

_Mme. Giry,_

_It's been awhile. It seems that I have no been able to put my thoughts together enough to write you a decent letter. I have an idea, Antoinette. Don't bother trying to tell me not to think of it because I've already put much of my plan into motion. I've bought the Opera Populaire. Crazy you're thinking, right? Indeed. I'm having it refurnished. Inviting the entire cast back to perform. I'm giving you a task. You will help me Antoinette, won't you? Please come back to the Opera house. I'll be there, in the lower levels. You will not see me, dear, but I'll be there. Oh! Don't think this is about Christine for a moment. I would like to see her again. This is true. But the performance Antoinette!_

_Erik _

Christine grabbed the letter under that letter and opened it again, very carefully. She read this one too.

_Dear Antoinette,_

_Images keep fluttering through my head and I keep wondering if I'm going to die… or maybe just become mad like everyone thinks I am. I can't stop thinking about her, Antoinette! Her face… her hair… her beautiful voice. It doesn't seem right that I'd be ripped away from this! Oh but Antoinette, you must understand. I've been following their movements. Recently she's returned to Paris! She's returned along with the Vicomte. I can remember everything… Oh Antoinette! You won't tell anyone I'm alive will you? Of course not, you wouldn't do that. Would you?_

_Erik_

Christine read all the letters through. Each one resembling the same pattern in how he wrote. She was so glad his music sounded much different. There were letters from a year after the fire to a few weeks before she received her own letter in death's handwriting.

She stayed silent for a moment and then looked to Mme. Giry, who was looking at a candle, which flickered in the night.

"You think Ana's ventured below?" She asked, becoming more and more worried about her new friend. Mme. Giry looked back at her.

"Where else?" She asked. It was not a question. It was a statement. Christine sighed. What was she going to do? How could she try and find Ana and risk being found by Erik himself? As the letters proved, he still was obsessed with her. She would need to go below to save her though. She couldn't let Erik kill her!

She remembered the way perfectly, and most of the path was still the same. Her feet lead her there with hardly and upward glance. It was time to face her fear it seemed.

**A/n: RandR please! Oh, and a big big big thanks to The Lady Revan, she's reviewed the most and I'm really grateful. Actually your reviews are probably the reason this story is still kind of going… THANKS AGAIN!**


	12. Promises and Punjab Lassos

**A/n: I don't own it!**

_Chapter 12:_

"Friend?" She called, from the side of the lake. She'd been wandering for hours it seemed. It had to be hours later than when she left! All the while she had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach- like someone was watching her. But how could that be? She looked around and around but couldn't find anyone. This started to scare her. What if "friend" was a ghost?

She needed to stop thinking like this! Friend was not a ghost, not a phantom- just a friend.

The she turned and saw a pair of yellow eyes staring at her from the mist of the darkness.

Okay, friend was a phantom.

'No! Stop thinking that.' She told herself agitated.

He was certainly not a phantom… In fact, maybe the thing with the yellow eyes wasn't friend. That didn't help her. She started shaking.

_Erik's POV_

Erik held the Punjab lasso in his hand ready to just strike her dead. She was very clever in telling him that she was coming, but she had not been invited! She knew he was there; his eyes had given him away. He wanted her to know she was being followed. He wanted her to know. He wanted her to be terrified. He wanted her to regret trying to find him. Then the question dawned on him. Why had she wanted to find him? With all the stories… with the threats… and why did she call him friend?

He stared at her. She was shaking slightly, but she had her composure in the circumstance.

"Friend?" She called into the darkness where he stood. He blinked, unsure of what to do then. "Is that you?" Her soft voice called in the darkness and it bounced off of the endless corridors. She had a soft voice, one that was sweet and quiet. It reminded him of Christine's voice. No, he assured himself. No thinking about Christine now.

It seemed he must answer. "What are you doing here _Mademoiselle._" He hissed at her, stepping into the light. His Punjab lasso was clearly visible. Her face went white and she went stiff. Still. She calmed herself and smiled slightly. Her smile was crooked and still a little nervous. She was brave indeed. Most would just run. "So you're friend?" Her quiet voice said once more. Her voice was a little shaky, as she noticed the Punjab lasso in his hands.

Erik looked at her, still unsure of what to do. She hadn't answered his question, and it seemed that she wasn't going to. She stared at him, wide-eyed. She seemed to be taking everything about him in, from his long black cape to his mask… he wanted to turn away. He wanted to make her stop looking at him. "Leave now." Erik said, giving her a glare from underneath the mask.

"But I just got here." She answered, taking a step toward him.

"I don't care." He said, taking a step backwards slowly, "Get out." His words were very harsh and could cut trough anything easily. She took a step back at this, but she didn't leave.

"I'm Ana." She said, looking at the floor.

He knew this! She had already told him! This child was impossibly annoying! Why was it that no human would possibly listen to him? He was trying to save them, was he not? Why were women so curious? Every woman that he met (which was only Antoinette, Christine, and this Ana) had wanted only to know more? To take the bag of life or death! To see his horrid face!

"_You know very well that there are two keys in the bag," he said. "What do you want to do with them?"_

"_I'd like to see that room I've never seen," she answered, "the one you've always kept hidden from me. It's feminine curiosity!" she added in a tone she intended to be playful, though it rang so false that it must have succeeded only in increasing Erik's mistrust._

"_I don't like curious women," he retorted. "You'd better remember the story of Bluebeard and watch your step. Come, give me back my bag. Give it back! Leave that key alone, you inquisitive little girl!"_

_And he laughed while Christine cried out in pain. He had just taken back his bag from her._

"I don't like curious women." He said simply, repeating what he had told Christine. She tilted her head to the side in question.

"And I don't like rude men!" She said, gaining a temper much as he had. _How dare she!_

He hissed in anger and lifted the Punjab lasso. She screamed as he slipped it over her head. She fainted.

"Erik!" She cried, running as fast as she could into the light. She had turned the corner, after hearing a voice, only to find Erik throwing a lasso over Ana's neck. She screamed and fainted, more so from fear instead of the actual physical force.

Erik, who was holding her up by her neck, dropped the Punjab lasso and Ana's body. He turned and he stared at her, his mouth opened in a gape.

"Christine?" He said slowly, "No! It's not you! I've seen your images before! You won't fool me this time, spirit!"

"Erik! It's me, Christine." She said gently, rushing over to him and Ana. "What did you do?" She asked, leaning over to Ana's body. He undid the lasso and looked at Ana's neck, making sure she wasn't dead. After satisfied that Ana wasn't dead she whispered, "Good, she's not dead."

"Really?" Erik said, thoroughly disappointed. That girl- Ana- had succeeded in giving him a hard time. He was thoroughly annoyed by the young girl. Christine rested Ana's head gently down in a more comfortable position and then stood, turning on Erik.

"You almost killed her! Erik, how could you do that?" She cried, throwing her arms up in frustration and anger. Erik stared at her, surprised that she too had disobeyed him and then dared to yell at him!

"How very stupid of you! Coming to this house uninvited? Foolish girls!" He yelled, in the same fashion with his arms dancing in the air.

"Erik, you can't kill her!" She cried, in complete shock. No, he couldn't kill her if she begged him, could she?

"Why not?" Erik said, chuckling slightly.

"Erik, she's my friend!" Christine, feeling tears coming to her eyes though they didn't fall.

"Well I certainly can't let her go with what she's seen!" Erik retorted.

"Then let her stay with you, Erik!" Christine begged, "I couldn't bear it if she were to be murdered! Please Erik? I'll come and visit! I'll teach her dance as I have before! Please, Erik?"

Erik stared at her, wheels turning in his head. He wouldn't enjoy the annoying girl, but Christine would come visit him every day! It was spectacular! How could he refuse that? _'She's not coming to see you Erik! She's coming to see her naïve friend!'_ Erik sighed. Still- it was worth a chance.

"True, and you'll come and visit her?" Erik said, squeezing his hands together to keep himself occupied.

"Yes, Erik." Christine said, sighing.

"But remember, if she bugs me you'll only come to her dead body!" Erik screamed, giving a laugh as he picked up Ana roughly and placed her in the boat.

"Promise me Erik, you won't hurt her?" Christine said, a few tears streaming down her face.

Erik's heart nearly melted at the picture. "Don't cry Christine! My dear Christine! I won't hurt her! Just don't cry!"

**A/N: Sorry it took so long. Massive writers block… Thanks to everyone whose read this so far! I hope you're enjoying this!**


	13. Chairs and Organs

**A/N: I don't own it!**

_Chapter 13:_

Ana awoke in a room with no windows or doors. As her eyes adjusted to her new setting the memories of her last moments awake flooded back into her memory. How was she not dead? She jumped up from the bed quickly and ran over to a mirror- the only mirror in the room. She peered into the mirror, making sure she wasn't dead. There were rust colored rope burns all around her neck. _How did the lasso not kill her?_

She touched these burns and then looked at the rest of her body, there were a few bruises, most likely were "friend" had gripped her. But no, he was no friend. Friends don't try to kill each other. At this realization she walked back over to the bed she had been on and she buried her face into the pillows and let out tears for this friend that was lost.

After what seemed like hours of crying, Ana turned to lie on her back. She wiped her face with the back of a hand and then fell into a deep sleep. Nightmares and horrors haunted this sleep.

Ana woke to the sound of a door opening. As her vision once again cleared, she saw a figure dressed in all black push open a door that she had not seen earlier. He was carrying a tray with a few kinds of food and drink on it. When he saw that she was awake he gave the impression of a look that meant death to any questions. On his face there was a mask. It covered half of his face. The part of his face that she could see was quite handsome- with pale skin, black hair, and pink lips. His hair was a mess. Clearly he hadn't brushed it in days and a few strains fell across his face. The mask was white and gave Ana the impression of laughing death. A death that was painful but silent. She recognized this mask from that Opera Ghost.

She gave him a glare in return for the impression he gave her. He walked in and set the tray down on a table close to the door. He looked to her again and sighed, and then he made his way back for the door. When he had reached the door Ana found her voice.

"Where are we?" She asked, standing on wobbly legs. She regained her balance and took a step forward.

The masked phantom turned back and looked at her. "My home." He said, looking around the room, "and your home. I don't want to see you often." With that he began walking out again.

"What do you mean by that?" Ana asked, looking around the room once again. She had a bad feeling about this, and she wanted out.

The Phantom turned again and looked at her sideways. His eyes, beneath the mask, were nonexistent in the light. She had then realized what the two yellow eyes were… She gasped without meaning to.

"Ana, was it?" The Phantom said curiously.

"Y-Yes." Ana answered him, a little shaken still.

"This is your home now," Erik said softly, knowing that it would be difficult for her to understand. "If you leave it will be the last thing you do."

"Why did you keep me alive, Monsieur?" Ana said, taken aback by the way he had said that. She found herself wanting to scream at him. To shout! But the way she was brought up stopped her. She also knew it would be horrible to upset him- he was after all, keeping her alive.

"Christine will come and visit you." He said simply, closing the door on her. She gave a frustrated sound and looked at the food. She was starved, but what if the food was poisoned?

'Of course not.' She thought to herself, 'He could've killed me easily before. He wouldn't waste poison on me…'

She walked over to the tray and looked at the chair next to it. The chair was a rough sort of cloth. It was a bunch of red and gold colors- including a blue. It was some sort of design and Ana followed the design with her eyes. She couldn't quite figure out the design- she'd think of that later. The legs of the chair were wood but painted in a bright gold. They curved around and reminded her of the theory of a woman's curves.

She sat on the chair and tucked a leg underneath her body. She picked up a piece of bread and began picking it apart. She sighed and thought.

_Why would it matter whether Christine came or not?_

She sighed as she chewed the bread. She swallowed and took another bite. The thought kept wandering around in her brain. What was the Phantom's fascination with Christine? The thought never occurred to her that they had known each other in the past.

What was she to do? He didn't want to see her? She could live with that. She didn't want to see him. Then it struck her. Her dreams of becoming a dancer were finished. A horrified look crossed her face and she dropped the food she was munching on. Tears flew from her eyes to the ground and all she could was think that she hated this monster with all her being. How dare he take away her dreams! She was so close too! She ran to the bed and wept until she couldn't cry anymore.

_Erik's POV_

Erik sighed and threw himself in the direction of his organ. How had he agreed to this? Not only did she glare at him constantly but also she was altogether too curious! Not only that, but there was nowhere for her to stay except the room that was Christine's before. Erik sighed and placed his fingers on the keys. Instantly he felt better than he had. He began to play something nice- like Mozart. They all made him feel better. He knew that these pieces were written when the composers were high with life, pleasure, and wine. None of the things he had ever written were such as this. None had been written with pleasure or life, but many with gift of wine.

He played away for most of the night, and then he sat there, staring at nothing at all. Maybe the girl wouldn't be all that bad. He'd know that someone was there with him. He wouldn't be alone. But how he hated spending his time with those incapable of solid thought! He was convinced that's what she was. A naïve girl with just dreams of becoming a star! Oh but she would find out that it takes work to get anything you want. And even then, it's a fat chance that's what you get. Erik smiled to himself.

That naïve girl made it possible for him to spend time with Christine. That was the best news he had gotten in a long while. He would win her back- he promised himself that. Unfortunately he didn't realize that promises don't come through a lot, just as dreams.

**A/n: Well… Erik's weird… then again, we knew that. Next chapter will be up soon!**


	14. Plots and Plots and Plots

**Headless Chester**: I think Letchworth did clear my mind a bit. Too bad you weren't there this year. Thanks for the review deariepoo!

**Sakura'n'Saber: **Thanks very much for your reviews too . I'm glad you like my story… and yes… Poor, poor Erik… he's losing it finally!But the song is from Trans-Siberian Orchestra. (sp?)

**The Lady Raven: **Thanks! (you get big exclamation points… I think my creativeness is coming back a bit!)

**GAKDragonMCP:** Yes I was trying for more of a Leroux Erik… but I'm trying to mix the two a lot. I just thought (since Erik is going insane) it would help if he were slightly insane earlier. Yay. .

**A/n: Oh yes… I don't own this… meh… how sad…. Oh yes, me no own Opeth's song either... -cries-**

_Chapter 14: Plots and Plots_

Ana sighed as she watched the ceiling intently. It wasn't that she didn't like the ceiling, actually she was quite fond of ceilings since she had lived without one at one point, but she had been staring at the same surroundings without change for a week. She had already contemplated going out for an investigation. But she didn't think that the Phantom of the Opera would appreciate that very much. She had already pulled on the strings with him anyway.

Every time he came in the room to give her food he hardly talked and his body seemed to tell her that he didn't like her. She didn't want to die. She knew he would kill her too.

The rope burns on her neck were almost gone. Instead of the dark brown color they faded into a light pink. All other bruises were almost to the point of vanishing.

Ana turned to look at the door. She was lying on her side with her arms wrapped around herself. How could she live like this? In a room… forever? How could she let this man make her feel powerless? How could she let herself become simply baggage? She hadn't even gone outside of the room when Christine came to visit her. She noticed that the Phantom came into the room more often when Christine was with her- and she heard them arguing outside of the door. Christine was on the verge of killing him where he simply begged for forgiveness. Hearing bits and pieces of these conversations, Ana felt sorry for this ghost, in a way. Clearly he loved Christine. Clearly he wanted her more than he wanted anything else. Clearly she didn't want him back. She didn't need him the way he needed her. Ana began to wonder if he knew this. How could he not? It was obvious. Of course love had a way of blinding people to everything except that they were in love.

Ana didn't want to see the ghost- the man. She didn't want to know the person who made her afraid for her life. She didn't want to hear his begging to Christine. She didn't want his food. She hadn't eaten the food unless she was starving. Anyway, she wasn't hungry. She couldn't be hungry in a cage.

She needed to escape.

Suddenly voices appeared from beyond the door. It was Christine and Erik. Ana smiled at the sound of Christine's voice. All throughout the night Ana had heard the ghosts' music. Even though she didn't like the ghost, she had to admit that his music was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard. He played throughout every night and the sound seemed to surround her in whatever feeling he was feeling. Very rarely was it contempt. Another way she felt bad for him. She had never known anyone who had not had one happy moment- until she had heard this ghost.

"Erik- I'm here to see Ana." Christine said, almost as if she was trying to avoid talking to this ghost- Erik. Awkward name for a ghost. Ana sighed and strained to hear the dull voices.

"Christine." He said pitifully. Ana knew he was in pain. He sounded like he was dying. "Don't leave again."

"Erik, don't ask me that." Christine said, and Ana heard her footsteps walk closer to the door. "You know I'm a married woman. Don't force this."

Ana could hear the sorrow the befell him even before the big sob escaped his throat. Without a word, the footsteps told Ana that he stumbled into another room. Softer steps were heard and there was a soft knock at the door Ana was staring at.

"Come in, Christine." Ana said gently.

The door opened and Christine's face appeared. Though there was a smile, pain covered across her eyes.

Ana stood from the bed and greeted her friend. They kissed each other on the cheeks and Ana stood back. She stared into the other woman's face. "He loves you very much." She said as Christine nodded. The wall she had built broke with those words and tears began falling down her face. Ana placed a hand on her back and let Christine rest her head on her capable shoulders.

Christine let her tears out and then stood straight, fixing her appearance. Ana smiled at her gently and sighed.

"He seems like a horrid man." Ana said, sitting on her bed and pulling her knees into her body.

"He isn't horrid." Christine said, sitting next to Ana. "He's had a very sad life. I was the person he attached himself too. I regret giving into him now. He really is a good person, Ana. He means well…"

"Means well?" Ana said, staring at Christine with a open mouth, "He almost killed me Christine! He's taken away everything that I love… and all so that he can get closer to you. My dreams are lost and it's all his fault!"

Ana sighed, but she didn't shed any tears. She was done crying over it. She had the whole week to herself to cry. She didn't need to in front of Christine to feel better. She sighed once more. "I need to get out of here."

Christine sighed. "He'll kill you if you try."

"I'd rather be dead than be locked down here."

"Let's not speak now." Christine said, standing. "He might hear. We should dance."

Ana smiled and sat on the floor. She began her stretching and the two woman talked like normal.

_Erik's POV_

"Found you there in the blink of an eye  
I miss you  
Turned away into a thousand dreams  
Found out what they mean

Lost you there in a moment of truth  
I trust you  
Gave away the one and only heart  
A gift to tear apart

Stain me, save me  
Take me to my home  
Hold me, show me  
Take me to my home

Weaker now, drawing fluid from me  
You kill me  
I'm not afraid of what you have just done  
But of what you've just become"

Erik sang softly though he himself wasn't listening. He wasn't crying. He could. It had all been in front of Christine- that one sob. He sighed removed his fingers from the organ. Why was he forcing himself to have hope? No- not hope. He _would_ win her back, no matter what. He would win her back by force, if he had to. He wouldn't lose this time. He'd kill her lover if he needed to. He'd kill that little twit. He'd kill anyone.

He stood and walked to the door. He was getting tired of that twit anyway…

**A/n: Yay… plots plots and more plots! Did you know that this story has a plot? I'm so funny! (haha… cracks up)**


	15. Escape or not

**A/n: I don't own it! Thanks for reading everyone!**

_Chapter 15: Escape… or not._

A small click was heard as the door to Ana's room opened. She wasn't sure what she would find because she had never seen this imprisonment. Her small head bent around the door of the room. No one was in the room she knew this. Like other nights, the ghost was sitting at an organ and playing music. Already, Ana could tell that almost nothing could disturb him from this pastime. She sighed and pushed the door opened more. It was a simple house. Nothing extraordinary. This made her despair. What if she was somewhere on the other side of Paris? What if she wasn't even in Paris? She pushed those thoughts away from her mind and stepped out into the unknown.

A rush of cold air ran up her legs, which were covered by tights. Still, she could feel the goose bumps spread. She liked the feeling on her warm skin. Still- it made her uneasy. After all, this could be her death. Of course, when had that stopped her? She had, in fact, rushed into the lower depths of the Opera Populaire with warning. She almost died there too. Ah well, she was already halfway there.

Which door? There were three doors. She could tell one door lead into the ghost's lair. The music came pounding from the other side of the door. She stayed clear of that door and tried not to look at it. Tiptoeing across the room, she stopped at another door. She pressed her ear against the door and listened for sounds on the other side of the door. Unfortunately nothing was heard because of the ghost's music in the other room. She sighed and cursed the ghost again for another misfortune.

She breathed deeply and looked at the door handle. Well, only one way to find out. She bit her lip and chewed softly as her hand came closer and closer to the handle. She gripped it loosely. She let out all of her air quickly as she turned the handle. Locked.

What if that was the way out? Then she was stuck here forever! 'Calm down, Ana.' She told herself inwardly. She leaned against the door and rested her head on the wood. No sound. Wasn't there a lake? Of course, what if the ghost had taken her somewhere else? She sighed. Well that was her only clue so far…. A boat. There was a boat! Clearly that's where they had come! She listened again, even more closely. She couldn't hear any water. And that gave her a slight chance at hope.

She tiptoed to the other door and did the same. Pressing her ear against the door she listened carefully. There was a slight sound. Water. She almost squealed in delight. Without thinking she opened the door as fast as she could. She stepped out and shut the door closed behind her. She came face to face with someone she didn't except… someone she didn't know. She screamed once.

_Erik's POV_

The music stopped abruptly. Something wasn't right. Something knocked him out of his music. He stopped from the organ slowly, trying to regain his senses. He shook his head slightly and brought a hand to the back of his neck. He cracker it slowly and began to walk toward the door. How could something all of a sudden take him out of his daze? He liked his daze- a place where no living soul could touch him. His mind was in a daze like one that had too much to drink. He looked at the door, almost afraid to open it. He shook his head once more and pushed the door opened. Everything was as it usually was. It was quiet- too quiet.

He walked over to the door leading outside. Something was drawing him there although the siren hadn't rung the bell. Something clearly wasn't right. He knew that no one could be out there if the siren hadn't rung. He needed to check though. He pushed the door opened without hesitation. He stared at the scene before him.

That blasted girl was up against the wall of the house. Her eyes were wide and vacant with fear. She was staring into the waters, unaware that he was event here. Her followed her gaze and his mouth dropped at what he saw. The Persian's face was staring back at his. It was not _his_ Persian though. Not _his _Daroga. The face was like his- dead. And suddenly the face was gone. Erik didn't know what to do- so he did much what Ana had done. He stared with wide eyes as his mouth was collecting dust.

After a moment or two he realized what he was doing. He turned to look at Ana. "What are you doing?" He said making himself believe that what he had seen was a delusion. It was a dream.

The girl's eyes seemed to come back together a bit and she stared at him. "Did you see?" She asked, looking shakily back to the water.

Erik sighed. "It's not polite to ignore a question, Mademoiselle." He looked at her accusingly and she looked back to him, eyes wide with shock.

"There really is a ghost down here…" She whispered to herself.

"Mademoiselle…" Erik sighed.

"Aren't you going to kill me now?" She asked him, turning to look at him sadly, though not weak. Erik stared at her. What? Why would he kill her? Oh yes- He remembered. And then when Christine came back to see her she would never leave.

Erik smiled devilishly. He didn't say anything but began to walk closer to her body- which was still against the wall of his own house on the lake.

It seemed, without thinking, she said, "You really love her, don't you?"

That stopped him abruptly. "What?"

"I- I heard- you two talking. You love her?" She said, gaining courage. She picked herself off the wall in one gentle movement and she stood tall. She looked at him- not harsh, not accusingly, not like he was weak. He liked that look- just genuine curiosity. He hadn't seen that look from someone in ages. The look had never ever been directed at him. He looked at her, bemused.

"More than anything." He admitted. "I will get her back."

"That will be difficult." She said, still looking at him with the same look. "But it seems that you are decided. I wish you luck."

Erik stared at her, not sure how he missed this courage before. She had seemed just a twit before… but something was growing on him. How could he kill her now?

"Come." He said, and opened the door wider for her to enter. Maybe something good of her would come. He could certainly still keep Christine next time she visited. This girl could be her maid! (**A/n: -laughs hysterically-**)

"Your name is Erik, right?" She said, looking at him questioningly.

"Y-Yes." Erik stuttered. How did she know so much? She looked around the house and Erik watched her intently, like she was an enemy walking into a trap. "Ana." He said her name quietly.

She smiled at him. "You aren't what I thought you would." Erik raised an eyebrow at this. And why was she smiling at him?

"I mean- while I was in the room." She explained, "I thought you would've killed me on sight… thank you."

Erik stared at her, not sure of what to say. He turned away and began to walk back to his music room. He heard her door open. "You're welcome." He whispered, although she didn't hear him. He heard the door close and he closed his own door to get back to his music. His sweet music. The only thing that was ever truly his…

* * *

Christine let her body go in Raoul's loving embrace. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his soft heartbeat, proud and strong. She looked up to him. "I'm afraid to go back there. I'm afraid… he might hurt Ana anyway."

"Then I'll send the police down there." Roaul said, rubbing his wife's back comfortingly.

"No!" Christine cried, lifting her head and staring at him in the face. This took him aback. He stared at his wife in shock. "I don't want to hurt him, Raoul!" She cried. "I respect him. I won't let the government kill him!"

"Christine…" Raoul said, giving her an affectionate squeeze. "You know he needs to be taken down. If not, he'll keep coming for you!"

"Raoul, wait. Maybe we can stop him!" Christine cried, gripping him tighter. She let go and paced across the room. Deep in thought, she covered a line back and forth on the wine red carpet of her own house. She had left for the day to visit Raoul.

"If I don't go… he'll surely kill Ana… but I need a few days to think! I need a few days…."

Raoul looked at his wife, and knew that he needed to protect her, just like he promised. He also needed to think… how could he help her?

**A/n: I know… bad bad bad place to end it, right? Well…. Oh well. I was pretty long nonetheless. I'll write more as soon as I can. **


	16. A Curious Beginning

**A/n: Hehe! I don't own it! Oh yes, a lot is now being based on Phantom by Susan Kay! Goooooood book! **

_Chapter 16:_ _A Curious Beginning_

"_Take them!" He said sharply. "I have already agreed to your damned eccentric terms, have I not? At least permit me to make one gesture of myself toward my keeper… and my friend." _

_They were both silent then, stunned by the harsh simplicity of those last two words. Nadir knew that friendship was an alien emotion to him, as frightening, perhaps, as it was unfamiliar. Friendship intruded uneasily on his existence, demanding responsibility, accountability, and loyalty. But Nadir did not believe that he would lightly cast aside the pledge he had made._

_Removing the mask and cloak, he handed them to the Daroga. Nadir suddenly saw that there was tears glistening unshed in his mismatched eyes._

"_Take care of yourself, Nadir," he said softly, "Take very great care… Your tiresome health has become very dear to me."_

_The Daroga smiled without actually realizing it. It seemed impossible for the chief of police to speak._

_Then he spoke to the dim expanse as Erik rode of. "Au Revoir, mon ami."_

Erik picked up the needle, which he had been resorting to as to control his vast emotions. He laughed, first Opium in Persia… now Morphine from Belgium. It seemed simply ironic that he would need something to make him keep his word to his dear departed friend.

It couldn't have been him. He was dead. Dead things, beside him, could not live.

The needle went through his arm and he let it calm him. The drug went through his system quickly, making him fall into it hypnotic pleasure.

The face flashed in front of him a final time before a veil slipped over his conscious mind. He didn't have to think anymore.

When he came to his own mind once again another vision flashed into his memory.

"_Where's Sasha?" he demanded with concern._

"_In the garden." Madeleine frowned. "Don't you remember Erik? She was annoying you and-"_

"_You shouldn't put her out into the garden at night, Mother. It's too cold for her now that she's old."_

_Before she had time to answer, there was a whimpering coming from the garden…_

"_No! Don't you see they're trying to lure you out there? They'll kill you if you if you go out to them…Erik!"_

_Laughter. Shouting. A scream of pain._

"_I'll kill you! I'll kill _all_ of you!"_

"_Come away, there's nothing more you can do for Sasha."_

"_She _will_ have a Requiem!" Erik sobbed. "A requiem to take her soul to God!"_

"_Yes," Madeleine said hastily. "But not tonight. You've been stabbed, Erik, don't you realize that? You must come and rest while I attend to the wound."_

"_I must bury her."_

A soft sob escaped Erik's dry throat. It had been years since he had remembered those agonizing moments. He had tried to forget. Who would want to remember that it was a promise that your only friend wasn't going to heaven? Because she was _an animal._ Animal's had to have souls too, Erik was certain. He never could believe what Father told him… how could he?

Humans were so cruel and they couldn't understand. Not even if they wanted to. But Sasha didn't mind. She kissed his deformity like it was any other patch of skin.

Tears. They didn't escape Erik's eyes, but lay on them, tempting to come out and laugh at him when he was finally done crying.

He walked over to the coffin that lay soundlessly in his chamber. He touched it with his cold deathly hands.

It was hours since his brief discussion with Ana. Something about her felt oddly familiar. Something was strangely soothing. But yet he was still alarmed. The face of Nadir haunted the back of his mind. The deathly white face and the droopy eyes and mouth. Shriveled up like a mummy.

The thought made him want to vomit. His friend looked like him. His friend _was_ like him. But how had he been there in the first place?

He eventually fell asleep like this- after many hours of having the troubling question loom in his mind.

He awoke to the sound of faint steps. His eyes opened quickly as he scanned around his room.

"Erik." The single word shivers up his spine. It wasn't human. The word- his name, was repeated in the same eerie fashion. He recognized the voice.

"Daroga?" He asked thin air, truly aware that he was either insane or his mind was still infected by the morphine. The effects were gone and so he assumed that he was insane. He stood shakily. He would not let a mere specter or a glimpse of his imagination frighten him! He had gained too much power over the years, too much knowledge to let himself be frightened!

He turned, trying to find the source of the sound. He came face to face with it.

There, dressed in his usual fashion was the ghost of Nadir. Much the same as before, he looked of death. This time Erik could smell it- and it wasn't his own aroma of death. Not his own perfume. It surrounded him and made him want to gag. But he held him self reasonably. He stared at the specter. His old friend's ghost stared at him, clearly seeing his true feelings behind the mask that he wore.

"So, Daroga, you still haunt me even now that you're rotting?" He asked, regaining his cool sarcasm.

Nadir's spirit sighed, though in life he most likely would have laughed. "Erik. You know your time here is wearing thin."

Erik shrugged, sensing how he was as a boy slowly crawling back to him. How calm he was in front of danger! How wonderfully conceited and arrogant. "Well at least I'll be dressed well for the occasion. And it seems I'll have quite the gathering too." He added, not seeming to worry about the end of his life.

The Daroga's shadow only shook its head. "Eventually you'll need to listen to me." With that, it vanished. Erik knew it was not the last time they would see each other before his timeless end would occur.

_Ana's POV_

She turned the door handle once more and stepped into the room outside. "Erik?" She asked. It had been two days since she had bothered to come out. She wasn't sure why she was so afraid to show herself again. The ghost, perhaps? Or maybe it was because she feared she found that Erik was growing on her. That single conversation changed her whole view on him.

She looked into the open door that lead into a room- the room with the organ. Erik sat on the floor, sketching something with patience. He didn't look up to her, but she somehow knew that he knew she was there. His concentration on his work was amazing and with an untrained eye it seemed as though nothing could ever disturb him while he was in this state.

Ana carefully walked over to the door, making her observations. She couldn't tell what he was drawing, but whatever it was- his attitude made it seem as though it would be greater than palaces!

She lingered outside the door for half of an hour. The he growled in frustration and crumpled up the piece of paper. Casually, he threw it over his shoulder into a pile of similar crumpled pieces. He didn't looked behind him when he threw it and she assumed it no longer matter to him. He picked up another piece of paper and began drawing once again.

Ana hesitated and then walked into the room. Her pink leather ballet slippers let her move silent across the floor. She lowered herself in front of the paper and she picked the latest crumpled piece up- the one he had just thrown. She unfolded carefully so it wouldn't rip at all. When it was opened up fully she gasped. It _was_ grander than a palace! It was a house- a mansion! Beautiful!

She looked across the room at Erik, who was still sketching and seemed to make no notice of her astonishment.

"What's wrong with this?" She asked, crawling over to where he lay on his stomach. He still didn't look at her.

"It's not right." He said, staring intently at the page- his work in front of him.

Ana looked down at the piece of paper still in her hands. Even though it was beautiful she knew what it was like to not have something completely perfect. She sighed and put on the floor in front of her. She noticed that his new design was almost similar to the one in front of her- with a few different qualities.

"You came up with this?" She said, looking at his work from behind his shoulder. He stopped and stared at his drawing, running his eyes along ever line that he had made. Taking this as a yes, she went on, "It's beautiful."

"I can't stand ugly buildings." He said, sighing as his lead began to move furiously again.

Ana almost laughed out loud at the way he said this. She didn't though, due to the frankness of his voice. It wasn't a joke- it wasn't meant to be laughed at. The silence continued except for the lead scraping across the paper.

After a few minutes Ana sighed. "I wish I could do that."

"Hmm?" Erik made a little sound from his throat to question what she meant.

"Work at something like that. With no sleep, no other thought." She looked at him as his lead stopped one more time. For the first time, he turned his head and looked at her straight with his mismatched eyes. She noted that he had replaced the half mask with a full white mask that was cloth. He looked at her, almost as if he was trying to devour a hidden meaning in her words.

"You do this with dance, do you not?" Said Erik, placing his pencil down next to the paper. He looked at her with the same intensity as he did this, not daring to tear his eyes away.

Ana sighed. "Not the same intensity."

"You worked after everyone was relaxing." He pointed out. "This is the extent of it."

"When did you learn to draw like this?" Ana asked. He simply turned back to his drawing. Picking up the lead, he began his work again. Clearly this was a signed that he was done socializing for the day. Ana knew this but she didn't leave the room. She watched as he carefully drew the lines- each one was like a new life brought onto the page with as much care as humanly possible.

Ana knew she had asked the wrong thing and she tried not to bother him again. For a few hours she stayed next to him, only moving when her body began to fall asleep. Eventually she stood and walked over to inventions lay across the walls and shelves. She came across a coil of wire. She put her hand closed to it and it shocked her. She pulled her hand away. "What's this?" She questioned, staring at it with wide curiosity.

"You wouldn't understand it." Erik said simply, still not taking his eyes off his work. The drawing he was working on, after restarted a few times, was almost finished.

"Could you explain it to me anyway?" She said, staring at the strange wire. She heard nothing. He had stopped drawing and was then staring at her in disbelief. "I'm sure I can grasp some of it." She whispered, "and then it will be worthwhile."

She heard Erik get to his feet with gracefulness. He seemed to want her to hear him move- she had already noticed his uncanny ability to be as silent as a cat. His steps grew nearer to her.

"This is testing for electricity. I never got to finish my experiments with it because of abrupt movement. You see this wire coiled up over hear…"

All thoughts of the past, of Christine, were out of Erik's head as he explained the mechanism to Ana. A few times she needed him to explain it twice- but never more than that. She seemed intrigued by everything that was in the room and tirelessly she asked about everything that seemed to interest her. Erik explained everything as she asked. He looked at Ana as he explained. He knew she was actually listening to him and _understanding_ by the look on her face. It was a look of absorbing. Like a sponge she took in everything that he said with consideration.

Even a few times she had made suggestions to him that he had been thinking about. Suggestions that made the experiments run better than before.

"You are educated specially?" Erik stated, after she had made one of these suggestions. She swallowed and looked toward another thing that interested her, which was everything in the room.

"Yes." She said meekly. Erik didn't mention it again, sensing that she didn't want to speak of it.

And so the questioning continuing… the slow forming of a friendship. This went on until Ana was falling asleep where she stood.

"Go to bed." Erik stated simply. She shook her head and Erik smile, amused by her reluctance and search for knowledge.

"But this is interesting." Ana said, yawning.

Erik held his hand toward the door, but not in a disregarding or mean tone. "I'll explain more tomorrow." He said as he walked her to the door. She went, knowing she would fall asleep during an explanation if she didn't go to bed then. She smiled at him as she closed her door. He went straight back to the world of his imagination in his drawing.

**A/n: It's long! Yay! Please RandR! Ooo.. **


	17. Convincing and Intruding

**A/n: I don't own it! Thanks to all my reviewers!**

_Chapter 17:_

"But the building needs supports here, or else it will all come tumbling down won't it?" She asked, looking at the finished drawing. She was appalled by the design, how beautiful it was!

"You see these? They're hidden but also support the building. All the trap doors within help as well, ends of door resting in the right places." Erik said pointing out with a finger stained with lead how the house was to stay up.

"Oh yes!" Cried Ana with delight as she realized that it would work quite splendidly. "I see. That's wonderful." She said, her eyes still scanning over the paper that he had worked so hard on.

He nodded with acceptance. No one could destroy these designs either. No one could ruin the beauty that he had created this time.

"Erik?" Ana said, still looking at the paper.

"Yes?" He said as he walked across the room to mindlessly toy with something that had caught his attention.

"Do you have anything to eat?" She said, looking up from the drawing and over to him.

"Humans really do eat too much." Erik complained as his fingers gracefully stroked the toy he possessed. It seemed as though he did not consider himself part of the human race. "You really only need one meal a day."

Ana laughed quietly. "Yes, but it does feel uncomfortable. And not to mention that slight noise stomachs tend to make."

"You listen to your body?" Erik said, turning to her. She flushed a little and laughed. It was a genuine laugh and it made Erik's inners want to smile. He didn't on the outside.

"Come then." He said, in his voice with the slight hint of power. He usually had this tone in his voice but when he demanded something it was slightly more noticeable. He walked across the room as Ana stood. She followed him out of the door carefully.

Erik sat down as she ate and carelessly looked around. He had so many thoughts… so many things that were beckoning his attention. He had another memory flashing in his mind. In this memory he could not be happy. He couldn't banish it away. He sat there with it as they sat in silence while Ana ate.

"_Erik."_

_He turned to look back at Nadir, wondering if the man saw past his cold dignity to the flayed remnants of his pride._

_"You could have been such a very great man," the Daroga said sadly, "distinguished beyond all other members of the human race. It's such a waste- such a tragic waste!"_

The words were playing in his ears again, all the sadness of his friend's voice crushing him like a brick wall. Many times he had questioned himself after this meeting. Had he wasted himself? Of course not- there was nothing to waste. The remains of something that was never fully whole. He was something that needed to be wasted for the sake of everyone else.

"Are you alright?" A voice pushed into his thoughts, passed his aware mind.

He sat straighter than he had been sitting and looked away. He looked back to her with almost a sort of fury. Then, with a wave of a hand he tried to end the question. Ana looked at him skeptically that something was indeed wrong. But she looked back down toward the food that he had given her. What was the point in asking if there was no answer and it only made him hate her?

She clicked her tongue as she tried to think of something to say or do. After a few minutes of thought, she sat in silence. "Thank you Erik." Was the reply fifth teen minutes later.

Erik nodded, showing her that he understand her thanks for the food.

"And not just for the food- for telling me all that yesterday. It was amazing."

Erik nodded again and stood. He walked over to the door, which would allow him privacy and he closed it. Very soft music was heard from the room and Ana smiled. Erik really was wonderful at the organ. So wonderful, that even though something in Ana's mind was troubling her, her body fell through a dimension and she sat still as a board, listening and not thinking of anything.

A few days went by like this, and both Ana and Erik began wondering if Christine was going to come back at all. Ana feared Erik's rage if she decided not too. She had already experienced a little portion of Erik's temper. She didn't want to taste anymore if it's poison.

She sighed and submerged totally into the warm bath that she had made ready for herself. She assumed that Erik was drawing or working on something important. The water felt heavenly- she was dirty and disgusting. What was going on? It kept entering her brain. She wanted to talk to Erik- even if he wasn't talkative. It seemed a relief to just sit in the same room as him. The water was around her head and it let her sit in peace for a moment.

What was _wrong_ with her?

The air in her lungs was used up but she stayed where she was. …_Just a few more seconds…_

The seconds were gone in a heartbeat and she lifted her head up into the air. She cleared her face by rubbing her eyes with her dripping wet hands. Something didn't feel right…

She looked around the room and noticed that Erik was standing in the doorway, completely at awe. He had knocked… she just hadn't heard it because she was submerged. Of course she didn't know this.

She finally found her voice. "What are you doing?" said Ana, pulling her arms around herself for protection. He looked over her once more and then turned. Although she couldn't see it, his attitude told her that beneath his mask he was bright red.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle." He stuttered. He hurriedly ran out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Of course that had not been the first time he had seen things. He was in Persia for years! And yet he found himself wanting her! An emotion he thought he had gotten past. How disturbing!

He paced around in his own room. Of course it was not love or even liking. It was simple _lust._ Of course the girl with the red curls and bright eyes was beautiful, but he loved Christine still! Of course he was a man after all! And he was permitted to hold this feeling, was he not? He felt something growing very uncomfortable as he pondered this. Instantly he shook it away and tried to keep himself calm.

There had been no fear like in Persia although. This made Erik wonder. She had sat in her bath and stared at him with just shock. She didn't hate him.

'If she didn't hate you before she most certainly does now!' His brain yelled at him once more, making him shudder and fall back into a chair.

Ana stood shakily from her prior seat in the bath. She dripped water off of her body and her messy hair. A puddle began to form beneath her. She stared at the door as she wrapped a towel around herself. It had taken her at least ten minutes to realize what had happened and yet she acted as though it were going to happen again. Without drying or dressing she carefully got into the bed. What was going through her head?

_Why did she feel like it was alright?_

He didn't mean to! Her mind cried this at her constantly. Her curls fell around her in a peacefully fashion as she pulled her wet towel and the blankets closer around herself. She turned and stared at the door.

She woke up around supper time, and although she couldn't see any light besides the candles, a hunger was pulling at her. She got up and dressed quickly. Her hair was still wet and tossed it behind her. It would be such a mess! Running a brush through it, she confirmed this.

She stepped outside the door and she felt slightly cold. She shrugged it off and walked into the kitchen, humming something softly.

Erik looked up from the table and looked back down again, his actions showing that he was indeed flushing again. Ana stopped humming when she saw him.

"Hi." Ana said, blushing herself, as she sat down.

"Mademoiselle," Erik was the first to speak after a moment of silence. "I'm sorry! I knocked and there was no response! Oh I-"

"It's alright, Erik." Said Ana, looking up at him. He smiled at her, though unseen. She seemed to notice anyway and she smiled slowly back at him.

Erik sighed in relief. He thought he was certainly going to have to kill her! He still couldn't let her go- she knew way too much. They resumed much as they had before, both aware that deep down something between them was altered slightly.

_Christine's POV_

"Wait a few more days, Christine." Raoul said, staring at her pleadingly. He sat at their dinner table, holding her hand in his across the cherry wood. The trays of food were pushed to the side of them.

"I wish I could say that, Raoul." Christine said, looking to him with sadness in her voice. "I'm afraid that she's already dead…"

"I don't think she is, love." Raoul said standing and walking over to his wife. He kneeled down to where he could see her disturbed face. "Let me take you to a dinner before you go back. You can leave a note in your room for Erik… and I'll made plans. I'll find someone to help us."

Christine looked at him, pleading with her eyes for him not to do anything rash.

Eventually she gave in though, agreeing to coming to the dinner. Plans, however, would only be suggested there.

**A/n: Well… no… this emotion isn't love. How could he forget Christine so easily? No, no. Just lust. Though to tell you the truth I'm really thinking about turning this into a romance story… Yay! More plot! Please randr!**


	18. Learning New Things

SCInfinity: Yes, I do see what you mean by lack of descriptions. To tell you the truth, I've been meaning to go into more detail on it… it's always never happened… hehe… heh…. Anyway, I'll do that ASAP. Oh yes, she is wearing her ballet outfit (she never got changed after the performance night when she went to look). Soon enough she'll change outfit's though- she's starting to get stinky! Hehe… well that's for the review!

Thanks Lady Revan!

Thanks anyone I've forgotten!

**Sorry for the wait, but with school starting I'm not going to be updating as much… That's sad…  well… Oh well… hehe… I'll update ASAP!**

_Chapter 18:_

Christine sighed and looked down to her pretty dress. It was a tan color with yellow lace trimming the edges. It was an in between cut that didn't show off a lot but just enough. She looked over to Raoul, who was very pleasant looking himself. He was staring to the door in front of them with a calm face. At least someone was calm.

Christine wanted nothing more than to turn around and run. All of her mind was telling her that this meeting wasn't a good thing. Someone would end up dead if she went in the house. Of course, she promised Raoul. But what do promises hold when someone you care about is murdered? It didn't matter if he was a murderer. She had a feeling that he hadn't hurt Ana, and she loved him. Not in the same sense as she loved Raoul, mind you, but he was a loving person no matter what anyone said. And with the imagination and inspiration he held nothing was impossible; nothing except the love that he wished. She wished desperately that she could help him! If only she could reach out and protect him- nurture his wounds. She knew she couldn't though. That would only push his love for her further and hurt him more.

Raoul looked over to his wife and smiled.

"You're shaking." He said absently, although she knew that he really was worried. The look was in his eyes.

"This doesn't feel right." She said, looking up to Raoul, hoping that he would protect her from anything that ever threatened to push her over. She spilled this feeling like she always had with him. Everything was open around him. She never needed to hide anything.

"Christine…" Raoul said, stealing another glance to look at her worried features. "I know you're upset, but think rationally! There's a woman's life in danger! Not only just a woman, but your friend."

"That's not it, Raoul." Christine said, suddenly upset with him. Why would it be different with any other woman even if she didn't know them? Someone's blasted life was in danger! "I fear if we do anything he'll find out!"

"Christine," Raoul said, finally turning to look at her. "If you walk in there, it isn't permanent. You know that this is only a suggestion. The choice is entirely on you, Christine. I know I wouldn't- _couldn't_- do anything if you told me not to."

"I'm not worried about you." Christine said, sighing. Who were these people they were going to meet?

The doors opened and Christine was soon to find out whom Raoul had made arrangements with.

_Ana's POV_

Ana smiled and pushed the cream-colored comforters down passed her stomach. Her smile widened as her vision was met with the soft flicker of the candle-lit room. She didn't want to get up. It was one of those times when she was fully rested and completely comfortable when she awoke. It's a rare thing- and not to be taken lightly. Of course she had no idea whether it was night or day. In fact, she had stopped keeping track of time, though it was almost a week in Christine had shown. She was worried about his still, but pushed the thoughts away so she could enjoy the comfort.

After what seemed like hours, she threw the covers off of her self and stood. The cool air touched her skin and made her shiver. She liked that feeling as well. She stared down at her ballet outfit which she had been wearing since she arrived by the lake. It was smelly, and she squinted her nose. She looked back to the bed and picked up the comforter. She wrapped it around herself carefully and walked over to the door. She opened it and looked around. "Erik?"

She was met with only silence. She sighed ventured further into the room, as her messy hair fell all around her. "Erik?" She questioned again. However, there was still no answer. She sighed deeply, slightly frustrated. She didn't want to smell anymore!

She stepped over to the wooden door that led into his room. She had never been in that room before, trying not to invade his privacy. She knocked once. "Hello?" She sighed as soon as the door swung opened. Erik looked slightly annoyed- and slightly tired. His eyes, which were first angry, became startled. Clearly he wasn't expecting a woman in a blanket at his bedroom door.

He was wearing a black robe with his usual white shirt underneath. He always seemed to be wearing a different shirt though. Ana briefly wondered how much this cost him a month but she refrained from it- knowing she had to somehow get other cloths.

"Hi- I hope I'm not bothering you…" She started, pulling the blankets closer around herself so nothing would fall.

"No- I was only sleeping." He said, regaining himself with sarcasm.

Ana blushed slightly, "I'm sorry… I know you don't-"

"What do you need?" Erik interrupted, trying to keep his eyes on her face, though he was failing slightly.

Ana noticed this and instantly began feeling awkward. He was looking at her, and she tried to protect herself a bit more.

_What was going on?_

"Do you have anything to wear?" She asked, looking to the floor so she could hide her embarrassment. She could already tell that her face was bright red.

Erik looked away too, thinking that if he didn't look at her he wouldn't be thinking about her either. _Out of sight- out of mind?_ Still, a weird feeling crept up on him. Behind his back and then suddenly attacking him with a huge bat.

"Oh yes, mademoiselle. I'm sorry I should have remembered." He walked across the room and touched a wall. It seemed that another door was drawn out of his fingertips.

Ana watched in awe as he disappeared into the darkness of the unlit room. She heard Erik shuffling around through something and then he appeared again with a few dresses. He pushed them towards her.

"You should have gotten dressed before asking me." He said, keeping his eyes anywhere but on her.

"I smell enough." Ana said, laughing slightly, "Besides, it's always good to keep you on your toes."

She smiled and took the cloths, being careful so her comforter wouldn't fall down. "Thank you."

As she walked back into her own room she felt lingering eyes on her and couldn't help but to slow down so she could remember the feeling.

As she closed her door she breathed in deeply. What was this feeling?

She carefully lay the dresses on the unmade bed as she threw the blanket on the floor. She looked over the dresses. There were three in which she could choose from.

One was a deep forest green that had black lacing going down both sides and the front. The lacing went down past the hips and stopped by where her knees would be. If she looked closely enough, Ana could see it was a leaf pattern that covered the stiff green velvet.

Another dress was a creamy white and it was flowy. It had sleeves that stayed close to the arms and then at the hands grew out to be like the dress.

The last dress was a dark gold color with dark blue ruffles around the neckline-, which was a bit too low for Ana's taste. The dress spread out at the waistline and grew to be a regular renaissance fashioned dress.

Ana grabbed the green dress. The dark green always made her skin look even paler than it was, but she didn't mind. She loved the dark green. It had always been one of her favorite colors. She dressed quickly and looked at herself in the mirror. Although her hair was still a wonderful mess, she didn't look all that bad. She walked over to the vanity mirror that was in her room. Next to it there was a desk and chair. She picked up a red and gold brush that was lying on the desk. She ran it through her hair and managed to put up half of her hair. She sighed and looked at herself in the mirror again. That would do at least…

She stopped. Who was she trying to impress?

She sighed once again. She knew perfectly well who.

These feelings were closing in around her and she only had one thought. It wasn't right. She knew this. But she wouldn't do anything. _Stop thinking about it, Ana._

When she stepped out of the room she was again met with Erik's eyes watching her. She hid her blush.

"Much better than that damned ballet outfit." She heard him muse, almost to himself. This comment didn't help the blood in her cheeks go down. She smiled though and looked up at him. He was watching her with a calm face, although she couldn't see it. He seemed altogether too calm- more so than a human should be. He seemed to have regained himself rather well.

"Well, I did have fashion help." Ana said laughing. She looked at Erik, whose expression was still hid by the full white mask. Even so, he seemed to be quite playful at that moment. She looked at his suit, which he had changed into. Like everything else he wore, it was new and never used before. A men's dress coat seemed to fit him well. Ana walked over to him and smiled.

"And now I'm going to make you something to eat." She said, smiling wider.

"Mademoiselle-" Erik started.

"No buts." Ana said, walking into the kitchen. "You never eat, it's a wonder you're so skinny."

Erik glared at, although it looked the same to her. "I'm not hungry, mademoiselle."

Ana sighed deeply, "Alright, alright." She looked away, "I can take a hint."

It became awkwardly silent and Ana crossed the room.

_Erik's POV_

Erik watched her, completely bemused. What to do, what to do…? The silence was awkward, more than he could bear. He wanted to play. Maybe he should play for her. Yes, that was a good idea. She'd never heard him up close- of course she'd heard him at night. No place in the lower levels of the Opera house could escape his music; sometimes this was a blessing, other times a curse.

"Would you like to hear me play, mademoiselle?" He asked, glancing at her.

Her face, which told of all the awkwardness she was feeling, turned into a bright smile. Erik had noticed, in the past few days, that she couldn't hide anything from the expression in her face.

"I'd like that." She said, walking through the door that he held open for her. He shut the door gently behind him. She sat on the floor next to the organ and crossed her legs underneath her. She studied every detail of the organ as her eyes fell across it. Only when he sat at the stool did she turn to face him. She smiled and her eyes sparkled.

Erik's fingers rested themselves on the organ keys. He didn't need to think about it as they began to move- as if they had a life of their own. Ana's eyes followed his fingers in complete awe. He smiled as he noticed this before he slipped into his world of music… Suddenly he wasn't seeing the organ. He was seeing wonderful colors in front of his vision and scenes of happiness. He was no longer a human body but just a spirit unraveling in the sea of music.

As his fingers stopped moving he saw Ana's face again, as she came out of the same musical world. Maybe he had seen her as a splash of color there. He imagined that she would be a dark red and yellow, swirling together in happiness.

She sat in silence for a few moments, still staring at his fingers.

"Do you… think you could teach me?" Ana asked after a long moment.

"Teach you?" Erik repeated stupidly. _What?_

"To play?" Ana asked once again, turning her gaze from the keys to rest on his mask.

Erik stared at her, not sure of what to say to this. No one had ever asked this of him before.

"Come." He decided to say, moving over on the stool so she could sit. "This key here is the middle C, there are a number of C's on the entire…"

And so the lesson began. Ana sat the whole time, absorbing all that he said like a dry sponge left in water.

**A/n: Yay… and so… more depth… well, until next time! Please don't forget to RandR! **


	19. Blood Mingles

**A/n: Hi! I don't own this! Oh yes, I don't own "Pie Jesu" by Charlotte Church either! This chapters is best read while listening to that song btw! That's how she's suppose to sound…**

_Chapter 19:_

_Dear Diary,_

_I'm not sure what to do with this now. Since I've been captured my mind has been elsewhere… in this land of music and mental harmony I can seem to even think about returning to my home! I wonder what the stories have been about me there. Another captured by the Opera ghost? Or maybe she was killed sticking her nose where it wasn't wanted. _

_In any case, I don't really think that I want to leave. _

_Most of the time Erik is locked in his room playing music, and when he's not he never talks much. And oh the music! No ears that have not could believe it! I have to keep telling myself that this is not heaven sent. Part of me does not care. In fact most of me does not. The music surrounds me and sets my head spinning. I've never heard him sing before, but just from his spoken words I have to believe that he's great!_

_I've found that he's an inventor, as well. A few nights ago I wandered around his inventions- and what inventions they were! – while he explained them all to me. Absolutely fantastic! Oh, if Monsieur Lussin could see! _

_Today my thoughts have been filled of my old teacher- my old life. I know my father was heartbroken when I took to music, and I still often wonder what he would think if he saw me performing. I'm sure it'd remind him of mother… I could never ask him to see me dance._

_On a different note, Christine hasn't come back. Although Erik hasn't said anything, I know he's getting anxious. My curiosity has been sparked by what took place between them, but I know better than to ask. Erik's temper… A few days ago he blew up because a line in his drawing was not perfect and I told him it looked fine._

_I'm afraid of him._

_So afraid!_

_I know that he can kill without thinking about it. I know no one would ever know. No one would care. And Erik's mind seems so fragile! Tossed to another point of view within seconds. He can grow to hate me within moments._

_But even through this frightening concept, I can't help but think about what he's doing. What is he thinking of?_

_I can hear the organ sounds floating through the rooms and my body wants to stop writing and listen. I won't do this- If I listen I'll never get any of my experiences down on paper. If I should be killed by Erik- If I should die I want a reference to my life at least to be here. Maybe someone would remember the young girl who wants so much._

_On a final note, I should also say that there really is a ghost down here. I've never seen the man before, but he looks Persian. And although Erik saw him as well- I'm sure of it!- he refused to say so. I'll need to find out more if that's possible._

_Ana_

The faces that watched her made her want to be anywhere but in the room. She would rather be in a room full of the most bloodthirsty criminals than be were she was.

_"Where is the Phantom of the Opera?"_

The words cut threw her like a knife. She looked around stupidly, trying to find some means of escape that wasn't there. Raoul tensed beside her. He knew it was a bad idea on his part the moment he saw them.

"Where is he, Countess?"

"I don't know." She stated, staring at the hard faces of the assassins. She swallowed and frantically searched around the room once more.

"I think we should be leaving." Raoul said in the most soothing of voices to Christine. To the men around them it would have sounded colder than night. Christine looked to him with an appreciative glance. He got to his feet, not taking his eyes away from them.

"In the rumors it was said that the Countess was his little love interest…" The leader of them said, standing. "Maybe he'll still come to rescue her. You know the government will pay a lot for the famous '_Phantom of the Opera'"_

Christine looked frantically to her husband, who was still staring at the men. He had a glare covering his face and eyes that were colder than iron. "I don't think that will be necessary, gentlemen."

A letter was sent to Mme. Giry. The letter carrier, of course, had no idea what powerful thing he held in his grasp. He complained to the first person he saw that he knew that there were too many "blasted letters of recognition to the blasted Opera house". He held three peoples' lives in his hands- in the small stack of letters (which he assumed were congratulations of the latest show) that he handed to the familiar stern woman known as Mme. Giry.

This letter read:

**Dear Phantom,**

**We've been notified that you're still alive by reliable resources. We also have Ms. Christine de Chagny at our disposal- locked in a room…**

The letter also held information to where they had her and that if he didn't come ready to pay a lot of money they'd be forced to dispose of her.

_Erik's POV_

Once again, he found himself staring into the face of an all-to-familiar friend.

"So Nadir- you're back again?" He said this, trying to keep his emotions back.

The swirling face just stared at him from his seat on Erik's closed coffin.

"When I told you to take care I did not mean for you to be killed."

Still- the Daroga stared. Erik shuddered. _Of all the people to die!_ Of course it had to be his one, true friend.

"You don't remember, do you?" The chilling voice came flooding through Erik like a bad smell. But it was not a smell- it was an omen.

He stared at his friend, completely bemused. "What should I remember, Persian?"

The Persian's ghost shook its head in disappointment.

"I should have came to visit you more often. Now I see that you've lost your mind finally." He sad this sadly- and again the same tone used in the same city years ago.

_"What a tragic waste!"_

Erik growled slightly, frustrated that this image kept popping in the back of his mind- but more of the fact that it was true. He walked across the room and picked up something to work on- anything. So long as it took his mind off of his recently departed Persian.

"You haven't killed the girl have you?" Nadir asked, completely shattering this wall that Erik had placed between them.

Erik turned and glared at him- mostly out of hatred. How could he kill someone with a mind so much like his own- with one exception, Ana was not evil. In fact, she was far from it. But still, she had the same lust for knowledge, the same curiosity that could get her killed.

The Daroga just stared at him with the same calmness.

"I thought you knew everything when you died." He replied, fingering at the little invention made of metal ad wood. It was a little noisemaker that he had made out of boredom. When pressing an unseen button, it would play music. Although if the holder was talented enough, it seemed it was playing by itself.

"I'm a ghost- not all powerful."

Erik growled in the back of his throat.

"Why would I kill her?" Erik questioned, not bothering to throw another glance at the spirit.

"You killed me." He simply pointed out, as if it were that obvious, and then was gone.

Erik's mind twirled around itself.

_What?_

He searched around the spot where the ghost had been. He felt like one of the rat girls searching for him. His hands groped the air were something should have been. His eyes burned from lack of blinking. He stumbled and caught himself on the coffin.

Then everything clicked into place.

_Ana's POV_

Her body stiffened when she heard the scream. The most horrible sound she had ever heard struck a cord in her entire body- spreading from her spine outwards in slow motion. It sounded worse than death and made her want to run underneath the fancy bed and hid until she could no longer feel the effects of its deathly cry.

She resisted that urge and stood, walking over to the door quickly. She threw it opened and stared across the room and Erik's closed door. She felt her heart go into her stomach and she could no longer breathe. A wave of fear crossed over her entire body and she felt like she would fall for a moment.

_He needs you!_

She steadied herself against her doorpost and shook her head to clear her mind. In a second she was at the other side of the room and her hand was sliding around the door's handle. She paused.

Her eyes closed sharply and she inhaled- as if in slow motion it ran don her throat like a knife. If he was so upset he could kill her without even knowing it.

She opened her eyes again. He was her _friend_. She could at least help him in one last way- he deserved it. She wouldn't deny him comfort that she would give to anyone else. She just hoped he recognized his _friend_, if he could ever believe that he had any.

She shoved the door opened and gasped at the scene in front of her.

The first thing she noticed was Erik curled up within him self by the coffin. His skeleton limps were throw around as if they didn't matter, his cloths were ripped slightly and the fingers of his right hand clawed at his mask- making sure it stayed put. He didn't seem to notice the door ajar.

Then Ana saw it.

There was blood covering his face and his clothes. All over the floor it lay. She felt the blood pour out of her face like it was beginning transferred to something else. She felt her hand come to her mouth as she stood in shock.

The side of the coffin was dripping blood and Ana noticed a small mirror, which was odd. She had only seen the mirror in her own room. There was no other in the house, save for this one small, broken hand mirror.

In her mind she shook it away and her legs moved without thinking. She rushed over and lowered herself so she could touch him. When her fingers reached out he pulled away from her- seeming as if he was trying to cut her with a piece of broken glass that lay on the ground by her feet.

He wasn't watching where he was swinging. He was just hoping to hit whatever came near to him. The broken glass hit her arm but she didn't feel it. She was too worried to even notice the blood that was now trailing down her arm. She gripped his arm, where he couldn't cut her again, and she placed her other hand on his shoulder. He tried to fight her. His strength was almost not human as he threw her across the room. She felt her head land on the floor sharply. She winced and sat up, not letting a darkness that was threatening her mind take over.

Without thinking she felt her mouth moving- someway to try and soothe him. Something her mother had sung to her.

"Pie jesu, pie jesu  
Pie jesu, pie jesu  
Qui tollis peccata mundi  
Dona eis requiem  
Dona eis requiem

Pie jesu, pie jesu  
Pie jesu, pie jesu  
Qui tollis peccata mundi  
Dona eis requiem  
Dona eis requiem

Agnus dei, agnus dei  
Agnus dei, agnus dei  
Qui tollis peccata mundi  
Dona eis requiem  
Dona eis requiem  
Sempiternam, sempiternam requiem"

Her voice was soft and high- above the staff. It was a soft melody and her voice seemed to soar in the heavens. Purely an angel's voice took her own. She sang softly as she leaned to one side on her thigh and stared at Erik, who was now staring at her.

He seemed stunned- in a trance. The blood ran down his face from underneath the mask. It covered his softly glowing eyes. They locked on hers and she stared back, not aware at the throbbing at the back of her head, or the blood flowing from the two meeting together in the middle of the floor. It was almost as if it was dancing to the song, mingling in a fashion completely made for them.

She repeated the verse again, letting her voice fly up to the high notes without difficulty. She didn't feeling her breathing or her mouth moving anymore. Now it was just for him.

As the final note finished they sat in silence for a few minutes. His rage- his sadness was now completely gone. She saw him move forward toward him as her consciousness finally slipped.

A figure- distorted and blurry like an abstract painting. It seemed to be speaking to her- speaking her name softly as she floated between worlds. A soft melody flew in behind the voice. No, that wasn't it. It was channeled through the voice. It was the voice. It spoke gentle things. It wasn't the words that communicated to her- she couldn't understand the words that this figure said. The sweet melody continued to run through her like water and she could hide nothing. She drifted back to her own land of music and dancers that seemed to revolve a solitary white mask…

When she finally woke up in her room she glanced around. She recalled nothing at first. The lights from the candles dimly light the wallpaper and furnishings. Erik was no where to be seen and a soft melody engulfed her. It sounded… strangely familiar.

When she tried to sit up a sharp pain hit her head like a baseball being thrown. She clutched her head and lowered herself back down. What happened?

She sat up, more slowly than she had before. The pain in her head was still there and throbbing, but it wasn't as swift and she could manage it at that point. She looked across to the long mirror that was in her room. Her head was bandaged with white cloth and the same bandaging covered her left forearm. Surprisingly though, it didn't hurt. She pried her mind for what had happened but the headache she got from it made her stop.

Slowly she got to her feet and found her way to the music room, though having difficulty walking, where the music was softly coming from.

She knocked the door lightly and the music stopped- to her disappointment. She placed her right hand on the frame of the door and stared at the door as it opened.

As the door opened she remembered everything that had happened the while before. How long had she been sleeping?

She was met with a phantom. Not the normal Erik she knew. He looked tired- sunken in. It was such a surprise that she gasped.

Erik stared at her, tears about to spring out of his eyes. Holding them back was extremely difficult, she could tell. He managed it though- and she was sure the expression on her face didn't help him.

She felt tears springing to her eyes as well, and she did her best to push them and the lump that was forming in her throat down. They stared at each other for a few minutes.

She had to say something.

"Are you alright?" She said softly, the first thing that formed into her mind. Erik still stared at her as the words came out of her mouth. She kept her eyes on his with effort. She wanted to look away, run away, anything. Yet she also wanted to stay with him. She wanted to listen to his music surround him whenever she slept. She wanted to have the occasional smile grace his lips although she couldn't see it.

_Erik's POV_

What she didn't know was that he was feeling the same way. After he had heard those notes touch the air between them, she what she had done after _he hurt her._ Something had clicked inside him. Something made him know that it was no coincidence that she had been brave enough to come into the lower levels of the Opera house. It was no coincidence that she had made Mme. Giry like her, no coincidence that she had befriended Christine.

_Christine._

He still loved her and would always. What he felt for Ana know was not affection- never. The only person he could ever love was Christine. He knew this. He couldn't love anyone else… and yet his heart argued with his mind. He would never admit it. Not to himself, not to Nadir's ghost, not to Christine, not to Ana.

He wanted to hear her sing again- he couldn't help it.

"Erik?" She asked, still staring at him.

He felt the tears threatening. He swallowed.

"Unfortunately."

It was the first thing he could say. How could he live after all that he had hurt her? He even forced her to give up her dream and live a place where she hated… with the monster that burned in hell. This Opera cellar where hell was the closest. She stared at him still, sadness gripping her soft blue eyes.

The fact that she could stand was amazing, and entirely thanks to her good healing and his herb medicine. That was the only thing he could be proud of. She had almost died and without it she surely would have. The loss of blood was amazing. When he had seen their blood together another thing clicked. The fact that her blood didn't run away from her was incredible. _She wasn't afraid of him!_

"How can you say that?" She asked, restraining herself from touching him.

He stared at her. "I'm surprised you're not running away from here." He spoke this darkly, ready to turn around and shut the door on her. He would never have to see her again she realized that she could.

"I don't want to." She said looking at him. For a few minutes they stared at each other, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Would you sing for me?" He asked, knowing how awkward this sounded. He didn't care. He needed to hear her sing.

"I can't." She said softly, hoping he would know that he was not the reason she couldn't sing.

He nodded, not expecting anything else. _She hated him._

"Will you listen then?" He asked, looking to the floor- breaking the connection they had between them.

"Please."

And yet somehow he wasn't expecting this. He led her into the music room, helping her walk. He pushed back all of his emotions and sat at the organ.


	20. Mme Giry's find

**I don't own it! Sorry this has taken so long… so much homework… and I just was having difficulty forming this chapter. I was exactly sure how I wanted things to sound and so I rewrote it a few times…. Well, enjoy!**

"_Monsieur!"_

The sound echoed throughout the quiet depths of the lower cellars. It echoed and bounced over the water as if it were swimming a race against something, a race against time. The sound fell on the house on the lake, the house few people had ever been to.

Both Erik and Ana tensed from their seats at the piano.

Erik felt his back form into a straighter line than it already had been. After the cry, there was a deathly silence that overtook everything. It was as if the house didn't want to know- a foreseen cry of horror. Neither of them wanted to break this silence. Both knew that something bad was about to happen. They could feel it in the depths of their souls and it reminded them with every movement of blood swiftly trailing through their bodies. They didn't want anything to change from the way it had been. These precious moments had meant a lifetime to them and neither one of them could get this single thought out of their minds.

_What if I lose you?_

Erik knew he would have to go. He would need to find his muscles and go out to the banks of the icy water and find the source of the voice. Of course he already knew that the one who cried out to him was Mme. Giry. Even though the echoes and bounced and distorted the voice, his well-trained ears knew that it could only be the older woman. She had never been below the ground level of the Opera house. Erik wasn't sure if it was superstition or the fear that he would take away everything that he promised for Meg, her daughter. Something had to have frightened her enough to make her follow those long dark corridors and into the unknown. Something inspired this newfound courage from her.

He took a deep breath and looked over to Ana. She stood slowly and carefully. She gave a long look over to where he was sitting; hoping that this was all a dream and her body would wake up from the immense imagination that surrounded her. She would open her eyes and Erik's fingers would be touching the keys ever so lightly and a soft melody would fill the room and stream outward to ever part of the world, or so it seemed. Erik could here her ballet slippers as she crossed the room with small, deliberate steps. Erik followed her feet with his eyes and counted as each echo reached his ears. As she reached the door her small hand touched the doorknob gently. Almost as if she was sorry for what she had just done, she pulled her hand away and again looked back to him.

In this moment Erik realized just how trapped in his world she was. His mother had been so. Lost, as if time meant nothing. She didn't want to go and yet needed to get away with everything she had. Erik felt a pain in his chest and he could help but to stare at her. How could he do this? She was like a caged bird, waiting for that opportunity to leave but always behaving when her master was around. He was her master. She didn't love him for anything that he was. She was simply afraid. Perhaps this made him think that she would truly leave if she had the change. This thought also scared him. He had gotten accustom to her company. Even though at times she was annoying and at times she took him away from his work, he loved teaching her. He loved watching her mind grow as the look of understanding passed over her features.

This made him think, how much time did they really have together? How much more of this could she take? She wasn't a person anymore- just a puppet. How long can anyone really stay this way without escaping somehow. The biggest question of all was for himself. Could he bring himself to let her go?

He stood as well and felt his knees and hips align into their rightful places. He took powerful steps across the room and reached Ana's side. He grabbed the doorknob where she had let it go. She looked at him with wide eyes and she opened her mouth to speak. He beat her to it.

"Stay here."

A look of disappointment crossed her face. Clearly her curiosity was getting the best of her. He tried his best to ignore look she gave him and opened the door.

"Be careful." He heard her say under her breath. He didn't look back to her. In a second he was out the door and rowing across the endless seeming lake.

The single oar glided through the icy waters as the boat propelled forward. Erik stole a glance behind his should at Ana, who still stood at the open door. She was staring after him and after realizing that she could do no more he saw the door close and the figure disappear. He let out his breath and moved the oar back into the water. He felt his shoulder move around in that circle. He felt it demonstrate its power as he made the oar take large breaths before submerging again. The movement of the water somehow soothed him. The way it rolled underneath him and didn't mistreat him. If a human had those characteristics he wouldn't mind letting them live… letting himself begin to trust them… He sighed. In his heart he knew that there could be this feeling. If he could see himself, he shot himself one deadly look.

The banks of the river came into view and he could see the solitary figure peering into the darkness- awaiting the Phantom of the Opera.

Her face was horrified when she saw him- she had never seen him before. Of course, she held her composer to the best of her ability. Still, the fear in her mind made the blood drain from her face and her mouth drooped a little in shock.

"Monsieur." He heard her say beneath her breath as her eyes widened. He didn't give her a friendly sound or look. He just glared at her.

"What are you doing?" He asked, jumping out of the boat.

"I-I thought it was just a regular fan letter." She whispered, bringing a hand to her chest. Her black dress folded as she made this eloquent gesture.

"What are you talking about, Madame?" Erik said, his voice losing some of its harshness. He fixed his eyes on her face. She fumbled into her pocket and handed him the letter.

"I'm so sorry Monsieur." And then she was gone, stumbling up the corridors in which she came. She was eager to leave, and he knew it.

He looked down to the letter. The envelope was ripped open from Madame Giry's handling fingers and his eyes could see the edge of the paper that had filled her with so much fear. His fingers gently brushed beneath the line of the envelope. Did he want to know? Still, the curiosity etched across his mind and he felt his fingers open the letter without a thought. He didn't stop himself from reading what there was to be said.

…_I'd like to inform you that we have the Vicomte de Changy and his wife at our disposal. I understand that there was some sort of to-do between you and the former Christine Daae. I've also been informed that you are to perform an Opera. If you wish to save Christine's live, move your opera up a few weeks. On the night of your Opera, The infamous Phantom will meet me in box 5. If you should harm me, Christine will die. At this time we will discuss further what is to be done._

The letter wasn't signed.

Erik almost gasped at what it said. In fact, he felt his jaw drop in surprise. This surprise quickly turned to anger and he knew that his eyes should be burning through the letter with the intense glare directed at it. He felt this letter fall to the ground.

Everything was a daze. He dropped to his knees and groped for the letter on the ground…

He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness that he could see so well through. He sat up from the seat where he was before a blinked a few times. The only thing in his mind was the letter. He picked it up and brushed off a few pieces of dirt on it. He sighed and stood and got in the boat. As he rowed back through the waters he began to wonder why he had ruined the perfectly good gunpowder five years prior….

As he reached the house he went straight to his room and stared at the small gold box that rested on his organ. He walked over to it and ran a hand along it. After opening and staring at it for a few minutes he heard the door open.

He didn't turn. Ana's small form appeared next to him only seconds later.

"What's wrong?" She asked, almost bringing a hand to his shoulder. She stopped herself in mid air and sighed, letting her arm drop to her side once again.

She was in a separate ballet outfit that Erik had given her, assuming the position of giving her new clothes constantly. She wasn't wearing her ballet slippers…

"You'll put holes in those tights." Erik muttered, closing the box as quickly as he could.

She looked at him for a few seconds. He didn't want to bear her eyes on him… he didn't want her over-curious presence to stand over his shoulder all the time. He didn't need her damn unending questions!

"Erik needs you to lead the dancers. We all know they have no grace at this Opera house. No matter how much that damn administration prides themselves…"

"What do you mean?" Ana asked, interrupting him. She stared at him in shock.

Erik looked up to her for the first time. His eyes closed together slightly in a squint. "I'm moving the performance date up."

_Ana's POV_

The performance!

She had completely forgotten about it. She was so busy and so happy… who needed the performance? Of course she knew that Erik needed this performance more than he needed anything else. He loved his music more than he loved Christine… more than he could ever love anything else… including herself.

She pulled her eyebrows together in frustration. Did he hate her?

"When?" She asked, taking a step away from him as a reaction.

"As soon as possible. I've been neglecting it too much." He answered her. "Real practice begins tonight. When you go up to the surface I want you to bring Mme. Giry something. _Everything will be perfect."_

Ana's mouth dropped at the hatred in his voice. An ice, cold thing had replaced Erik. He was no longer whom she had gotten to know. She sensed there was no sense in trying to change his mind. One thing she knew was that he was stubborn. Perhaps the most stubborn person she had ever met. She also knew that she would probably never see Erik again. He sat down at the organ and scribbled something down on a piece of paper. As soon as he put his pen down he was standing and handing her the letter.

"I want you back up there before six. You're head will be healed by tomorrow."

Something in her fell and she felt something forming in her throat.

She heard the door shut behind her as Erik went off to get everything ready for practice.

She felt tears streaming down her face but she chose to ignore them. She stared at an upside-down letter that lay on the organ. She picked it up with clumsy fingers and read it. A gasp escaped her throat and she dropped it on the organ again. Her weight dropped onto the stool and touched the organ gently.

She felt lost. Her mind was in a constant blank as she stared at whatever was in front of her. She understood why everything was happening the way it was, but why? How had she let herself get so attached to the way things had been? She felt more tears and her eyes hurt. Then her puffy, red eyes fell across a gold box that she had seen Erik at so many times…


	21. Exacerbated Feelings

**A/N: I don't own it already! Yay, another chapter! It was sad writing this chapter and yet oddly inspiring... I don't know why...**

Her fingers gently touched the side of the box and her instinct was to try and draw away. It was almost as if some unseen force was surrounding her. The Phantom of the Opera was closing in on her mind. Then she realized just who the Phantom of the Opera was. It was definitely not Erik. Not unloved, poor Erik. Erik was just this man being dragged down by this monster who took over his body. She pushed back her fear and that surge of the Phantom in her mind disappeared.

What was in the box that he treasured so much? What little trinket let his mind be in peace for a short period of time? She had seen him sometimes through nights stare at the box. She never saw what was in it, but it always made him sit still for hours. At these times she saw him slouch, which he never did. It seemed that it made this world, which so cruelly hated him, disappear. It let it float into his world of music and beauty. What could make the Phantom of the Opera go away for a short while?

Her mind wanted to know, but everything seemed so slow.

"Wandering child, so lost… so helpless…" She said quietly. As she said these words a man in a mask appeared in her mind. His appearance was much different than she would have imagined it. She pictured a black mask, something that hid his emotions. Then she pictured a white dress suit, not hiding his appearance.

She liked it the other way around. Unlike most, he wore the white mask. Most only wore the black mask. Although seeable, they're lost.

She tore her mind away from anything but the task at hand. She listened carefully for any sounds. Of course, Erik was too preoccupied to notice that she had not yet left, or to notice where she was. He was too stricken with grief of losing his precious Christine to notice her.

A moment of jealousy passed throughout her. She cursed Christine. She cursed everything about her for making Erik unhappy and now for putting his life in danger. She stood these thoughts immediately and sat still, guilt running through her. How could she think that? She couldn't help that she didn't love Erik. After all, who could love a monster?

She sighed deeply and let her shoulders sag. He wasn't a monster. He was a genius… he was amazing… he was beautiful in his own way. And yet he was terrifying. A murder. But this fact didn't make her want to run away… in fact it made him more of what he already was. She was so confused! She hated all these feelings!

Her fingertips reached inside of the gold box and she opened the box as quickly as she could. She felt her eyes widen in shock and she felt her feet move back in an attempt to run away from what she saw. Her hand flew to her mouth and she felt the tears that were in her eyes force their way out without her consent. Not bothering to wipe them away, she thought every possible solution in her mind. Still, she knew exactly what this ring meant to him. She knew exactly whose ring it was- or whose ring it was meant to be.

She vowed something inside herself this moment. Without realizing it she told herself silently. And then this thought grew and grew until she could finally speak.

_"This will never happen again."_

With that said aloud to the silent room, she learned what true hate was. She knew never to trust someone else with her heart again. She learned to hate everything that was Erik. And now, he was the same person. He _was _the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

She sat at the chair like a statue. As her eyes read over complaints, triumphant, and just statues she sighed. This was what being the "manager" was. Being a "manager" was sitting in the office all day and managing paperwork. This was why she thought long and hard before she had decided to help the Phantom. In the end, it had been a song she heard. While she stood, waiting for her conversation with "the new owner", she heard a soft, heartbreaking melody float across the stage.

Of course, she had known about it all along. It was the begging in Erik's letter's that made her come back. Ever she, the strict, stern woman, and she was letting this poor soul turn her into a lamb!

This music had struck a chord. It was like all the painful memories of the world finally fell on her shoulders. It was on sob after another and that was not the worst of it. All these sobs were linked together, which was the worst! She felt like she did when her husband died. During that time, she hadn't left her room for weeks. The small child, Meg, anxiously knocked at the door only to be disappointed by her mother's behavior. She had tried to comfort the child, but how can anyone expect to help when there very presence made everyone feel better about there own situations?

Mme. Giry glanced up to the figure that stood in her doorway like a ghost. Her eyes widened in shock for the second time that day. The figure did not look like it had when she had last seen it. Clearly something had happened. Clearly this figure did pay the consequences that she had foreseen.

"Ana!" She said, and stood to help this girl that seemed like an empty shell. She walked around the desk that she was sitting at and touched Ana's arm. Ana didn't flinch. The only thing she did do was stare off beside her, farther into wherever her mind had gone.

"Ana?" She asked, leading the girl to a chair. She sat down like a doll, completely indifferent.

Then her face grew curious. Her head lifted from its slumped position and she looked to Mme. Giry.

"What happened?" The older woman demanded. She looked at the white bandage surround the younger girl's head. "What did he do to you?"

"What?" She said quietly, gazing at Mme. Giry intently. It seemed more curious than anything else. It was if she had just awoken from a dream and she wanted to know exactly what was going on. She glanced around the room.

"Child, your head." Mme. Giry said, bringing a hand to Ana's forehead. Ana looked around without changing the expression on her face.

"How long has it been since I left?" She asked, suddenly becoming aware of everything. Mme. Giry felt the young girl's hand gripped around her arm. She stared at her in the eye with a curiosity that needed to be answered.

Mme. Giry sighed softly at the child's unawareness. She took her hand off of Ana's shoulder but still held a strong gaze at her. "A month."

_A month!_

Oh, time had flown by! To Ana it felt like a small blur in the longest year of her life. She could see it as if it all happened within a flash. She sucked a lung's full of air and looked at the floor.

"And- when is the Opera?" She asked quietly, tearing her eyes back up to look at the older woman.

"With The- his- new ambition, it will be ready for next week." She said taking a few steps across the room. The clicking of her heels echoed across the room like an endless abyss. The older woman's eyebrow's knit together, which made her lines of age stand out more so than they already had.

Ana folded her hands together in her lap, a strange habit she had when thinking. What was she to do? Erik was in deep trouble this time! What if he could not save Christine? What if he was captured?

"You know?" Mme. Giry asked, turning on her large, black heels, as she stared at Ana.

Ana swallowed hard and nodded. "It's a trap." She said quietly, her blue orbs fixing heavily on Mme. Giry. She needed support for herself- to keep going. She needed some sort of reassurance.

"He isn't incompetent, he can see that." Mme. Giry said, turning to look at Ana. Clearly she couldn't?

The thought gripped at the hems of her soul and was scratching and pulling her train of thought towards it. How could anyone else love the Phantom of the Opera? How could anyone? If only he loved her as well!

"He loves Christine with all of himself." She said to the child. "You should care to remember that."

"What are you saying?" The woman with red curls asked, getting to her feet. "Do think I love him? That would be outrageous!"

"How did you manage to live, Mlle?" Mme. Giry asked, turning to look at this girl directly in her eyes. This was a question she was dying to have answered. After all, she was no one to the ghost… she wasn't anyone. How did she manage to live?

"I escaped." Ana said, looking to the floor through her lies. "He was using me to see Christine." She felt the tears threatening to come up but she did not want to be accused of loving him! Not _The Phantom of the Opera. _If she had chosen to love anyone it would have been Erik, but that did not matter anymore. Erik was dead.

Mme. Giry's eyes bore into her for a second, and she had to force herself to keep looking at the floor. She already knew that if she looked into her eyes the woman would she her lie… she would see right through it.

"If you'll excuse me, Madame… I'll see you at rehearsal." She stood, noticing that she was starting to shake with all the attention on her. Either Mme. Giry hadn't noticed this or she was giving Ana slight peace of mind. Either way, Ana was grateful as she scurried out of the room.

The halls seemed much smaller than they had the last time she had walked down them. She begged her feet to stay attached to the floor, she felt like she was going to fall through the floor from lack of support. Which is what she had- no support. It was if the wall would melt at the slightest touch of her fingers and she needed the wall to find her way! The echoing of her steps gently touched all around her as she made her small steps.

_What had she meant? _

She soon found herself wandering onto the stage. The red velvet and golden surrounds beckoned to her and she found that she could not resist them. They had her on a string as she aimlessly walked out onto the stage. The conductor sat at the piano stool. He had a quill pen in his hand as he scribbled things down on a piece of paper. He seemed to be in his own little world, surrounded by whatever was running through his mind. As she approached the side of the stage his eyebrows knit together. Finally, exasperated, he threw up his hands in defeat and gave a growl from the back of his throat.

Forgetting herself, Ana spoke quietly. "What's wrong, Monsieur?"

He must have jumped ten feet before residing in himself once again. He looked up, ready to accuse whoever had snuck up on him so rudely, and his jaw seemed to drop when he saw Ana. "Is that you, Ana?"

It wasn't that they were friends, but rumors of her from the Opera Ghost had come to his ears. For a month and a half rumors that she had snuck down below were all told by the galling rat girls. His eyebrow flew up, making his already curious look more exaggerated.

When she didn't answer, he found himself looking at the bandage on her head. "What happened, mademoiselle?" He asked, not overly concerned.

She averted his gaze and refused to answer. Changing the subject, she looked across to whatever he was working on. "What's this?" She asked, taking a step towards it."

He sighed and took the time to glare at the small packet. He had been reading over the score for the past few hours and each note seemed to make him more frustrated than the last. "Our newest Opera." He sighed once again and looked back to Ana, who seemed to be looking at the pages with curiosity, even though she was standing a few feet away. He saw the blood drain from her face. Clearly she had gone through something much worse than the rumors. Everyone knew all to well that the new owner had created this Opera "_Don Juan Triumphant". _It was also the suspicion that this new owner was the Phantom of the Opera, and how could anyone disagree?

Christine Daae was missing, a girl almost murdered, music so chilling that it was wonderful, and notes beyond comprehension. The pieces all fit together, the final question was why? What was worth risking everything again? What could this ghost really want with everyone at the Opera Populaire?

He nodded with dissatisfaction. "There will be complaints." He said this with certainty. Although everyone had been rather weary to begin with, there had been nothing to do for a few weeks- a few scores here, a few rehearsals there. All of a sudden they were to practice every moment they had free, it all started with Ana's disappearance.

His eyes shot to the innocent looking girl with the red curls, covered by a white bandage, falling across her face. Her blue eyes came to look at his sharply, as if they had seen something no one should have. Could it be that she really had something to do with this disaster?

"May I see it?" She asked anxiously. He pushed the thoughts away into the folds of his mind. There would be time for these thoughts later, at that moment he had work to do. Still, it wouldn't hurt him to take a five-minute break. He banged the paper against the piano to straighten them out. As he stood, he handed the music to the girl.

"If you'll excuse me, Mademoiselle, I'd like to get a cup of tea." He said this while hurrying to the door. Over his shoulder he called, "Please place that on the piano when you're through, Mademoiselle." Even as he walked away he couldn't get the suspicions out of his head. What connection did this foolish ballerina have with the Phantom of the Opera?

* * *

Speaking of the Phantom of the Opera, he was standing in front of a building on the other side of Paris. After getting the performance together, he had walked around his house for five hours telling himself not to go looking for them. He kept telling himself that looking for them would only cause her death. In the end, he could no longer take it. Imagine, not just five hours but an entire week totally helpless to what they were doing to his precious Christine!

_"Even the king of kings needs to learn patience, like everyone else."_

Exacerbated was his impulse to kill the first person that happened to cross him on the street. He was frustrated, mostly of his incompetence. Not only had he let someone find out about him being alive, but he couldn't find a simple building that held his dearest Christine! He was astounded when the urge to bend over and sniff around like a dog came to his mind. Instantly, he knew he was losing his mind- if he had it to begin with!

Finally, after mentally blowing a fuse and walking around in circles for most of the night, Erik decided to return back to the Opera Populaire. Of course, he was frustrated. As he furiously walked down the corridors he heard something familiar…. too familiar.

The destination changed until he found himself in the flies above the stage. His music drowned him and he growled a few times when the person messed up. _They need to get a professional_ he thought darkly to himself as he thought up ways to torment the current one. They should've have been playing in an Opera house. They played like they had only been playing for a year or two.

Then he caught the red hair. The red curls that adorned someone he knew all too well. He gasped at this.

Ana had only been playing for a month, how was it that she could play this? She should have been practicing scales still, and yet she could even begin to comprehend what he had written? She had managed to surprise him yet again with her abilities.

He was proud of her, and yet suddenly very angry with her at the same time. He wanted her _out of his life!_

As the notes of the grand piano began to soar into his higher arpeggios he felt his rage of earlier that night begin to build up one more time. The bent screech of rage soared above any of his arpeggios until at last the notes died away and all that was left was silence. Ana said very still, wide-eyed. Her fingers, which were pointed straight out from shock, slammed down on the keys as her back straightened to an unnatural position. She looked around and glared at her surroundings.

Still, with the glare, she had a sweet voice. "Erik?" She scrunched up her nose in frustration. Why was she mad with him?

He didn't answer. Quickly, she got to her feet and ran out the door, leaving his music where it was.

Why was everything so frustrating?

If it were anyone else he was sure he would have killed them.

What did this mean?


	22. The Gift

**A/n: I don't own this! (Except my own characters) Sadly, PotO is not though…**

Ana toes were pointed at the floor as her pink ribbons went around her ankles, paved by delicate fingers. She had always loved point shoes. Although they made her feet look a few inches bigger than they were, they held a certain gracefulness to them. Her other foot came up and the ribbons went around that ankle as well. She tucked the tiny ribbons inside each other and stood carefully, making sure that she had tied them correctly.

Although they had been practicing _Don Juan_ for the past few days incessantly they still needed to perform something for the public. With a days notice they had been given dance moves. They practiced this dance once and were expected to know it. For the rest of the day it had been _Don Juan._ Ana didn't know what Erik was trying to do to the cast, but she felt her mind drift back to him constantly. She also worried for Christine and her husband. What if they weren't even still alive?

She sighed and stood tall, rubbing the end of her shoes in white, powdery rosin.

She was dressed in a pink ballet leotard, adorned with lacy, childish, garnish. It came up on her shoulders and was held with thick material. It almost seemed like a corset, the way they were supposed to be worn. Of course she had loosened the corset a little, what dancer in their right mind wouldn't? Although she loved the outfit, its flexibility was slightly scary for a dancer and it gave the impression that they were childish. She didn't want to seem childish then. Not then, not ever. She was convinced, even though she was innocent, that she had grown up. She wore pink tights that seemed more of a peach anyway. Her red hair was swept into a bun at the top of her head, all tied together with another pink ribbon.

The performance was in ten minutes and she was nervous beyond belief. It wasn't the performance that made her nervous. She knew she was on a thin limb when it came to the Opera ghost. She wasn't sure how she had angered him a few nights prior, but she didn't want to keep angering him.

She made a first position and stretched her arms up into the air in a graceful circle. Her toes fell into a normal position as she came up on her toes. After a few seconds she returned to a regular stance. She sat at the small desk in her room and glanced around at the dull surroundings. She sighed. She was lucky enough to get a room to herself. Most of the rooms consisted of three or more sniveling girls and she knew she didn't want to deal with that. Still, the room had the basic things: a desk, a light, a chair, and cot. Again, she wasn't complaining. Before she had come to the Opera house she had slept on the streets, but after living in Erik's house for the past month had made her slightly picky. It really was true that Erik hated to live in ugly places.

She had an odd feeling about everything and suddenly she wanted to retreat into a small ball. She looked at the mirror, which was across her vision. She smoothed her hair again although it didn't need any fixing. She wiped her eyes and pinched her cheeks. Why was she trying to look great? She already knew that it wouldn't matter. The dancers are lost to the crowds, only the divas getting the attention for judgment of beauty.

She walked over to a small cloak that she had. Although it had many holes and was inevitably worn, she kept. It kept her warm- and her father had given it to her. It was a dark green, although the color to it was well lost to someone expecting it. Still, she remembered the first day her father had shown it to her. When she wrapped it around her shoulders she almost wept at the look of pride on her fathers face. She was never sure if the pride was that he could lavish affection on her or if he thought her to be his beautiful little child.

She reached inside a small pocket and dug around. After feeling what she was looking for, she pulled out three small cameos. Her favorite of Apollo was the first she saw, and she rubbed it gently before walking back to the table and placing the cameos on the desk. The next was a shell, with a woman carved into it. She wasn't sure who the woman was but she had long hair. To Ana, it always that the woman was in deep pain as she sat, staring at the carver with a distant look in her eyes. The third cameo was of two young children sitting at a piano. She often had the suspicion that this simple little cameo inspired her music. It was the first cameo she had ever received.

Her father wasn't born into the wealth that he later obtained. In fact, when her mother, whose choice in occupation already brought disgrace to her families snobbish eyes, met her father her mother almost died of shock, or so Ana had been told. Still, love was love. Her mother was strong-willed and was up for the pleasure of disgracing her family name more so than she already had.

It wasn't that simple. Ana's mother, whose was called Marie by her father (his own name was Stephan), was wild. She loved gypsy music and the wind blowing in her face.

Stephan by chance met an architect and earned his wealth for that job. He was famous, even for being poor. His work was so grand that people were willing to look past status for at least a little while.

In the end, it had been her carefree nature and his love for her that killed them both.

A knock at the door was heard and Ana jumped at the sound, relieved to be cast out of her thoughts to violently. She didn't want to think about her father or her mother. There death had scarred her, even though she didn't know the reasons when she was younger.

"Yes?" She called meekly, regaining composure from the shock.

The door opened slightly and Megg Giry's excited face appeared around the corner. "Ana? It's time!" She said, hurrying in and grabbing Ana's arm. Ana was violently dragged to her feet and out the door before even had time to breathe.

* * *

Damien was born wealthy. His father's family name had been past on generation after generation and had been honored numerous times in the public's eye. Despite this, Damien was a good man with a smile that covered his face almost all the time. He was tall, handsome, and he was what any woman dreamt of marrying. He enjoyed riding horses and went with his father to parties. Although he was told to go after many women, he did not love any of them. He made excuses frequently but was polite to even the most nattering of houseguests.

It was the night of _Les Troyens,_ a french opera that was said to be very good. The lights around the theater dimly sparkled and the red velvet of the box seats was glowing with the light. Up the stairs he went, as his father talked politely with one of the other males in breeches. When his father finally stopped talking he came behind Damien, a smile covering his face, but that sll too familiar look of curiousity clouding his eyes.

Damien's father was a well-built man, with thick gray covering his head. He always managed to look well respected. In fact, Damien was convinced that his father could look well put together even in rags. His father pulled out a small golden pocket watch and smiled to the boy.

"In a rush again, Damien my boy?" He said this, stepping up to the step Damine had planted his feet- at least for a short while.

"Just excited, father." He replied, giving his father a dashing grin.

His favorite part of the Opera was about to begin. It wouold go from polite conversation to hushed silence, and then the first note would strike the audiences ears, thus signaling that the performance was about to begin.

It was the fifth time Damien had been to the Opera Populaire in the past two months. The first time he went since childhood was after a strong invite from a family friend. Still, it seemed as though he was living for the Opera. Although his father had questioned him constantly about his reasons for attending, Damein could not explain himself. Of course, he enjoyed the music, but there was a deeper meaning in this he couldn't quite decepher. The first time he had gone to the opera there had been a dancer. Although in the bakground, he had watched her every move with deep fascination. She had bright red hair the trailed across her outfit in curls. She was as skinny as the other dancers. Of course, this was all he had seen of her. Without meeting her, or seeing her, up close he would never know what she was really like. When he asked his friend who she was it seemed that no one had ever seen her before, no one had heard of heard before. His insatiable curiousity was telling him to visit her after the perfoemance. When he had tried to find her, she was no where to be seen. He had gone back to the Opera many times, but each time she was not there.

The halls they stood in were crowded and many laughs were heard from below. Everyone seemed to be having a splendid time. Damine couldn't think of anything but this girl.

"Who are you looking for?" His father asked, and he felt his father's hand grip at his shoulder. Although his voice was in a teasing matter, deep down Damine knew that his father really wished to know.

A flash of pink went to Damien's ears but he looked back to his father's demanding eyes and smiled. "Just looking around."

They started toward the entrance to Box 7, the box that had been assigned to them that day. Damine had an exciting feeling that his wait for the mysterious girl would be ended that night.

Tonight would be another time his hope flickered, but unlike every time before, this candle would remain lit instead of being smothered into darkness once again….

* * *

The curtain opened and Ana felt her jaw fall open in utter amazement. It was her favorite part of the performance without a doubt. The audiences stared onto the stage with fascination and she could almost feel their pleasure.

The cast tossed around a few notes on the stage. The hired diva for that night was about to go into a pleasant aria the time Ana noticed that she was on after this act. As the rat girls got into lines Ana hardly noticed. She was focused on the music as high notes stretched across the theater.

Before she knew it she was being pushed to go out. Even though she had no idea what she was doing, she remembered everything as her feet moved beyond the protection of the curtain.

The music filled her soul and she didn't have to think about it as she did a jump, a slight assemble. All of a sudden she was thrown into an arabesque and then a quick en point. She walked across the floor and leaped over one of the other dancers. She kept the pace, almost unaware of the fact that she was on a stage, in front of hundreds of people. The thought always startled her before she stepped onto stage but she was all alone on the stage once the song began.

In a moments notice she shuffled off of the stage again and awaited the next scene she was in. This was how the performance went, all lost before and after but certainly magnificent throughout.

She found herself in the same place after the performance as she was before it. She refused to go to the party the cast held after the performance, knowing perfectly well that this "cast party" consisted of alcohol after alcohol. She hadn't even bothered to change, so she lay on her bed with a cold washcloth on her head.

Erik was right (as usual), she could take the bandage from her head the day after she had left. Still, a headache passed through her brain and she didn't want to move. Soon enough she was dozing. A small whispered sound met her ears. Not wanting to awaken at this time, she groaned. Normally she would have gotten up to see what was bothering her, but the headache had grown worse and she couldn't even think of moving.

Still, the voice continued to talk to her and eventually it sounded frustrated, so she was shaken violently awake.

Finally, after a moment of confusion, she saw Erik's masked face staring down at her. Apparently she was shaken so hard she was on the floor. Erik stared down at her and she couldn't believe her eyes.

"Erik?" She wanted to reach out and embrace him for letting her see him again, then she remembered that she was upset with him. He looked down at her with what seemed to be discontent. She glared at him and stood to her feet, noting that a sharp pain went through her head.

"Ana." He simple stated, clearly not sure of what to say.

"What do you want?" She asked, walking over to her small dresser. She grabbed a brush and went through her hair quickly. After thinking about him for the last few days, she did miss him. But she wouldn't admit that to herself. Now that she saw him she wanted him to go away.

He was silent for a moment. He seemed to open and close his mouth a few times. When he finally continued she understood from his voice that this was a hard thing to ask. "Originally Christine was supposed to sing for my Opera." He admitted this with a sense of sadness, and then it was gone, replaced with fury. "She… won't able to attend. I've heard you sing and I've decided that you're voice is sufficient."

Ana realized that this was the closest he would come to asking for her help. She sighed. "Erik, I-" She started but was cut off.

"You don't need to decide now." He spoke quickly, and Ana knew that she was his last hope on this Opera that he seemed to need to be performed. Although she was mad at him, she knew this Opera meant everything to him. "I'd still like you to practice just in case you decide to… this could make you known to the public…"

"That doesn't mean anything to me." Ana said sadly. She had a quick idea.

"You'll do it though?" The hope in Erik's voice almost pained her. She picked up the small cameo with the two children playing on it. She knew he was depending on her, and she also realized that this was the only way to save Christine.

She looked back to him and made her way over to stand next to him. "I will." She said this while grabbing his hand. He pulled away from it but with strength that didn't seem able to come from her petit figure, she grabbed his hand and tucked the small, hopeful cameo inside. She didn't need to say anything. He looked at his hand with extreme wonder- it flashed through his mismatched eyes. His wide eyes met her and she smiled at him. "But if I'm to do this I'll need your help. I'm not Diva."

He opened his mouth again but it shut without a sound uttered. He nodded and she thought she saw something beyond his eyes… behind that mask…

A knock on the door made her turn and a gasp escaped her mouth. Erik would be caught!

She looked back and he was nowhere to be found.

"Come in." She said after clearing her voice. The sound of the door handle turning made her want to push it closed against whoever was trying to get in. When the door finally stood ajar she was met with the most wonderful pair of green eyes and a huge smile. The man at her door was like a Greek god, with small muscles and long brown hair. His eyes sparkled and his smile said that he couldn't control his happiness.

When their eyes met she smiled at him. "Hello."

* * *

_Sixty minutes prior_

"Where are you going in a rush?" His father's voice had asked him. With a laugh he added that his son must be in love to move that quickly.

If he only knew.

He felt as though his heart would burst, he was practically skipping down the hallway in pure joy. Soon he was so much out of his father's view that he went backstage and began questioning everyone that he could about this girl who had stolen his heart with her twirling innocence. Again, no one seemed to know her. Finally, after weaving in and out of the crowd asking the same question, he found the information he was looking for.

Soon enough he was at her door and he found himself delaying. How could introduce himself like this?

'It doesn't matter. You're here. You've found her at last.'

When she spoke he instantly opened the door and he felt the smile spread across his features. He was in shock. She was as beautiful as he imagined, her hair and attire as it had been on stage. He just caught the glimpse of color from her scalp. Her skin was fair and she had no freckles that she could see. Her head was curved to the side, with her neck raised high. Her lips parted as she saw him and her eyes widen. And oh, her eyes! They were the color of the sea on a sunny day. They were whirlwinds of emotion, which seemed to shine with happiness. He took her in as she took him in with her eyes.

And then she spoke.

**A/n: Yay, I introduced a new character1 I love Damien. He's so cute. He's like a cute little dog whose happy about getting a bone (or anything)… aww… Don't think of him like that, I assure you he's in this for a good reason. Was Erik's reaction to the cameo alright?**


	23. A Friend Once More

**A/n: Sorry for the delay everyone! I've been busy writing this chapter to the best it can be. Happy Halloween! I don't own it…**

Erik's POV

He growled in frustration. At this rate he would never get to talk to her. Not that he really _wanted_ to talk to her; he needed this opportunity. It had taken him hours to gather the courage to come to her. After serious consideration, he realized that to get Christine back he would need to perform _Don Juan._ The only way to perform _Don Juan_ was to have a soprano. There were no sopranos' worthy at the Opera Populaire- that was besides Ana. She wasn't even a signer! A ballerina!

As he looked at this young man his hatred began to swell. This young boy, although he looked nothing like him, reminded Erik of Christine's precious Raoul. The boy was undeniable charming, and handsome too. He looked so eager to see Ana, and Erik knew that after _Don Juan_ this appeal for her would grow stronger.

"Excuse-moi, mademoiselle." He said, smiling even wider as he realized he was talking to "her". She smiled back, her innocence showing beneath her doe eyes. The young man switched from French to English. "I'm Damien Soustelle. I realize I'm intruding, but I had to meet you."

"Damien." She said quite slowly, as if getting a feel for it. She studied his appearance carefully. "It's a pleasure." The boy smiled wider, if possible. "But I'm afraid I don't understand…" She paused and drew a breath in.

Erik, who had turned away from the couple, shook his head. She was naive!

"Why would you want to see me?" She continued.

'_He's going to fall in love with you Ana!' _

The thought struck an odd chord and it rang all the way through Erik for a few seconds. _Jealousy?_ He had never even dreamed that anyone would fall in love with this innocent child. Of course, he should have suspected so. She was curiously attractive and she was smart. If he had warmed up to her better she might have been able to laugh easy.

It was interesting. Christine, which looked like his mother acted nothing like her. Ana wasn't at all like his mother.Yet she had the strength to be violently harsh- like Madeleine. she was as innocent as Christine but her mind was filled with dreams, not reckless fantasy.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with reckless fantasy. You just have to be careful who can get a hold of you. Christine was so easily taken under his wing. At times, he admitted, he was beyond anger with her tears and pleas. Not to say he didn't love her. That was the only thing he was still sure that he could do.

Still, perhaps he wasn't as cold and remote as he believed himself to be. Perhaps he did feel something for Ana.

Perhaps it was because Ana had shown him kindness even though he tried to kill her. Maybe because, unlike him, she was a light in the darkness.He was the shadows surrounding the candle, the parts that didn't show hope. Perhaps she was the only reason…

Their voices drew him out of his thoughts.

"You were… wonderful… on stage- dancing, mademoiselle." The boy said, more like stuttered, out of his elegant mouth. Ah, he 'searched for words'.

Erik sighed once more. Young wealthy men were so incredibly infuriating. They always managed to bother him.

"Thank you." He her Ana say, more as a response than as an actual meaning. It had been cemented into her brain that she could not escape from the words when a compliment was given. "My name is Ana." She added, with a certainly clarity he couldn't explain.

"That's a lovely name." He said. Oh it was pathetically painful, another drilling of words.

He could hear Ana smile and it made the blood in his veins boil. "Soustelle? Are you of nobility?" She asked curiously.

"Oh, yes." Was this Damien's response, "My father is a patron of this Opera house. He was a friend of Mr. Garnier, unfortunate that the man died last year. My father wanted to help him with his dream, although. From what I hear, the government was really what killed him. I would hate to be in that position- especially during the war with Prussia."

Erik glared at a piece of stone the made a corner of the hall. At least the boy knew his history of the great work of art.

"Would you care to go to the party, Ana?" He asked, sounding hopeful.

Her voice became hushed, as if he would be surprised to find this fact out.

"The party is no place for a ballerina." He chuckled. "I'm quite serious!" She exclaimed.

"I'm sure you are." He said, reaching his hand out to beckon her to come with him to the party. It sounded as if he didn't except, for he repeated himself with a hint of sadness.

"I don't think I should, monsieur." She said gently, clearly informing him that it wasn't him that made her decline.

"I'm sure my father would love to meet you." He said, taking a step forward.

'_Say no!'_ Erik's mind shouted.

"Alright." She said rather shyly. "But I won't stay for long. I'd feel awfully uncomfortable!"

He chuckled and Erik heard the door shut behind the two retreating figures. As soon as they were out of earshot his swore- quite colorfully. He went back to his home and picked up the small bundle of fur that was waiting for him.

Erik had not seen Ayesha for five years and now that she was back she seemed to want to spend every second with him. As soon as Erik had regained his senses after he learned that Christine had been captured he went to the Changy's flat. They had taken Ayesha when he had "died". Of course he could not leave his beloved Siamese lady in the hands of those frightful servants.

He was in a frightful state and somehow even the tired eyes of Ayesha didn't help him. She was getting old, no longer willing to sacrifice her energy to hunting. She seemed to be looking around for someone else but was content with seeing Erik. Her caressed the top of her head and he heard a sound of pleasure from the back of her throat. He smiled slightly, though exhausted and sad. Oh Christine! What was he to do?

From the Diary of Ana 

_The party made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. All though this Damien was at my side the whole time I received stares from across the room. Who was this unfortunate that was at an elegant party? I'm sure that's what they were all thinking of me._

_When I met Damien's father he was polite. His chubby features, which were outlined by a gray beard, looked at me with slightly curiosity and much wariness. I'm sure he didn't want his son walking around with a ballerina! _

_Damien has asked to see me again. Although I told him that I would see him again, I'm not incredibly willing to. Since I'm not blind (and if I were I might as well hear it!) I can see that his admiration for me is entirely beyond professional level. Of course, any one with eyes could see that._

_I've been giving a lot of thought to my discussion with Erik._

_Two days after the party with Damien he met me in my room once again. He told me that_ he wouldn't allow _me to see that "charming young fellow" again! _

_Of course, I stomped my foot on the ground at this._

_What I said almost made him cry out in rage. But what was I to do?_

_"What do you mean, _not allow?" _I had said, staring at him with wonder as to what made him say such a remark._

_"It will interfere with your singing," he said stubbornly. I'm sure he didn't thinking everything through as he usually did with such perfection. "I won't coach you for your performance!"_

_"Erik, you asked me to perform!" I cried, walking across room and grabbing a brush. I ran it through my hair in frustration. I would have said begged, but I thought that it might produce a raged fury from him. I didn't want to anger him, just get my point across._

_"You think I couldn't find someone better?" He said. I turned to fact him and glared. He stopped, almost as if he realized how much those words could hurt someone. Fortunately, I know that I'm not the best. I know I'll never be able to be the best in singing- I am a dancer._

_"Well then why don't you?" I said stubbornly. _

_Why all of a sudden I have such a temper, I don't know. I've been so meek for the past few weeks- months… ever since father died. All of a sudden I've been yelling back at those managing to upset me._

_Although I could not see Erik's face, I knew he was ready to burst. So instead, he sat down with ferocity on my cot. It seemed he was trying to control his temper just as much as I was. In that crazed moment I sat down at my desk and put my head in my hands._

_When I heard his voice, it was shaky. "Why did you give it to me?" He asked, and I knew he was gazing at me steadily._

_I didn't say anything. I didn't want to give away my jumbled emotions. But still, I knew he desperately needed an answer. I could tell by the feel of his eyes on my back. It seemed he would see right through me then. I challenged this wicked game by looking at him, behind a closed veil of course. I should have known that my emotions would be painted clearly in my eyes. He would know! _

_Something in his eyes changed when he saw my face, first shock, and then something else I couldn't identify. I held his gaze for as long as I dared, then, ashamed by this act of ripping away my defenses, I turned my face away in attempt to hide from his mismatched eyes. _

_All was silent for a time. It seemed that hours had pasted._

_"Ana." His voice broke the barriers between us that we had put up._

_I looked up finally and he was standing next to me with an arm stretched out. "Perhaps I could introduce you to someone?"_

_My curiosity was sparked and I knew that I could not resist. I practically leap to my feet in the reestablishment of our friendship. _

**Erik's POV: 3rd Person**

When Ayesha saw Ana a deep hissing came from the back of her throat. I leaned over and stroked her from her ears to her tail.

"She isn't fond of strangers." I pointed out, rather stupidly. It was obvious, this dislike for any other woman. After all, she didn't want my attention drawn from her. But how could I not notice my little Ayesha?

Ana leaned over as well, next to me. I could feel the warmth of her body so close to mine… _what was I doing?_

I picked up Ayesha to calm her and Ana rubbed behind Ayesha's small ears. The cat reluctantly warmed up to the petting and I could hear the chuckle come from my throat.

"She's absolutely stunning." She said softly. She seemed to be delighted in being able to satisfy Ayesha's whims. It was odd that Ayesha had warmed up to her all of a sudden. I expected it to be quite like with Christine.

"Do animals usually like you?" I asked, putting Ayesha in Ana's arms. I would never have done the same with Christine. I had a feeling that Christine was as terrified by the cat as much as she was of spiders…

I heard Ana laugh and for a moment I felt myself relax with the sound. I had never heard her laugh before… She had a sweet voice full of pleasurable happiness. I looked from Ayesha, who was crawl on to Ana's shoulder with ecstasy from the attention she was getting, to Ana. Her blue eyes were shining and she was petting Ayesha's tail, twirling it softly around her finger… Her red curls were pulled to the nape of her neck and fell across one shoulder. Erik studied her thoughtful, noticing how beautiful she was. Her face wasn't too long but it wasn't short either, shaped in an oval. Her nose wasn't big; it seemed almost like a child's nose. In many ways she acted like a child. Of course, she wasn't like Christine in this matter at all.

While Christine would always need someone to look after her, Ana seemed perfectly capable of surviving without the protection of anyone else.

Ana's eyes meet his. Although sparkling, they seemed a bit hesitant.

Ayesha had wrapped herself across Ana's shoulders and Ana's finger was still twirling her tail around slowly…

"No." She said seriously, "Most animals don't like me very much."

"I find that hard to believe." I heard myself say without hesitation. Why was I speaking so freely?

"My father once brought home a stray dog. It was really only a puppy…" She said slowly, as if wondering whether to bring up this conversation. "That dog always liked me. I think that was the last animal that enjoyed my presence- that is except for your darling cat here. What's her name?"

I glanced down to Ayesha and then looked back up to Ana's face. She was watching me curiously. "Ayesha."

When she heard her name being spoken, Ayesha jumped off of Ana's shoulder and walked over to me. I smiled down at her as she began rubbing her head on my leg. . I sat down slowly and put her in my lap. My finger's fell through her soft hair between her ears as she closed her eyes…

"That's a lovely name." Ana said, sitting down next to me as well. She put both her feet underneath her in the opposite direction of me. But still, she leaned on her arm towards me…

"She was a survivor of the war with Prussia, I said, unaware of what I was letting out.

"Did you name her Ayesha because she's Siamese?" She asked, watching Ayesha with enjoyment.

"In Persia, the shah's most precious animals are his cats…"

"Have you ever been to Persia?" She questioned, and I looked up to her. How was I to answer this question? Did I really want to start this understanding that was to eventually lead to the truth? _She doesn't need to know that you're a murderer already! _I practically screamed at myself.

"A very long time ago." The words came out before I could stop myself. Why was she so damn persuasive without meaning to be? I looked away from her in pain. Why rekindle memories with Nadir Khan? Especially since it was my fingers that killed him?

She didn't seem to notice my reluctance. I think she was watching the cat with bewilderment… like a small child.

"Was it beautiful there?"

"No." I spat, though I knew I had to try and remain patient. "Everyone there is in poverty besides the shah and his amusements."

She remained quiet, and I felt her eyes on my mask without looking at her… on my face. She didn't need to see! I half expected her uncaring fingers to rip off the mask and accuse me on so many levels.

Even though I waited for this moment, nothing happened. I opened my eyes, which I just realized had been closed.

We watched each other again and a realized that Ayesha had jumped out of my arms and was now walking into another room.

After a few moments I could not stand this silence any longer. "Perhaps we should practice." I stood, not waiting for a reply. I would take on the role of the patient teacher at this moment… and that was it.


	24. A Revelation!

**A/n: Sorry this chapter is so short, but it was a perfect place to end the chapter. Naughty Erik… tisk tisk tisk… Well, enjoy!**

**I don't own any ofit! (including the song...)**

**From the Diary of Ana**

_These few days have been sucking on my energy and I can only assume that this will continue. During the day I dance with the ballerinas for 9 hours straight. After eating Erik takes me down with him to his abode. He's teaching me the music and "perfecting my voice". I've only been getting 3 hours of sleep… which is no fun when you wake up to Mme. Giry saying you're not dancing fast enough, not leaping high enough…_

_But my voice, even after a few days, has improved! Erik is a very gifted teacher. He seems annoyed but he's always patient and willing to explain anything over again. He must think me a small child for the way he acts!_

_Right now he said I can rest for a few hours in his house. We both needed a break and I was falling asleep. Of course I can't sleep now. I wouldn't think of it now. _

_He's playing something that I assume he's made up. Since I know he'll never notice me I've sat in the crack of the door with my pen in handy. I know this incredibly improper but I have to watch him. When he plays he seems to not be in this world… I wonder what makes someone like that. The song is soft and sweet, simple chords. I can imagine what he sees when he plays… somewhere quiet. No frustrations. A friend maybe?_

_I've got all these thoughts bouncing around in my head. _

_I'm not sure if Erik has ever noticed this, but he's got something about him that draws certain people to him. I don't think he's noticed this. If he had, I think he wouldn't be quite so sad. I want to cry just looking at him. He sits (and somehow manages) perfectly straight but it almost looks like he has an huge burden hanging down around his neck like a big diamond in a necklace._

_His song is so simple. I think I must put it to words. Of course, I won't sing it. But at least I can write it down on paper._

"Lost in your dark  
I see you there  
What do you see beyond your stare  
and you believe that no one else can know?

What is this thing you keep inside  
Out of light and wrapped in pride?  
Always afraid that one day it will show

I'll keep your secrets  
I'll hold your ground  
And when the darkness starts to fall  
I'll be around there waiting

When dreams are fading  
And friends are distant and few

Know at that moment I'll be there with you

What are these voices that you hear?

Are they too far or too near?  
What are these things that echo from the past?

Who are these ghosts you see at night?

There in the shadows of your life

They only live by the light you cast

I'll keep your secrets  
I'll hold your ground  
And when the darkness starts to fall  
I'll be around there waiting  
When dreams are fading  
And friends are distant and few

Know at that moment I'll be there with you

I'll be around

When there's no reason left to carry on  
And every dream you've ever had is gone  
And the dark is deep and black without a sound  
And every star has been dragged to the ground

Know at that moment I will be around  
Know at that moment I will be around."

_When I look at this I'm sad. I know that I haven't been hiding anything from myself- at least not very well. Although this is hard to admit, I think I do have these feelings for Erik. I know he has rages… and I know his mind is supposedly "deranged" but I can't help it. I feel something when I'm with him…_

_When the music was almost over I stood and made my way back to my room. The strangest thing happened when I shut the door! I was in my own thoughts when I heard a voice! At first it just said my name and I looked up to the same white figure as when I was going to escape from this house!_

_Now that I wasn't as unsure- I wasn't as frightened, I found my eyes searching through this man's face. He had thick curly hair. Looking closely I saw dim color changes, though not enough to distinguish anything except that he seemed to be dark haired and dark skinned. He wore Persian robes and I knew he must've known Erik. How I knew this I'm not quite sure, but the conversation the other day rang throughout my head. His eyes studied me for a moment. _

_I felt my mouth open to shout for Erik._

"_He won't hear you- he's playing." This ghost pointed out abruptly. _

_My mouth shut and opened again. "Who are you?" _

"_I'm a friend, and you should listen to me before you get yourself killed." He said, standing from the vanity table where he had been leaning on._

"_Killed?" I repeated, already feeling the absurdity of my response._

"_You should remember that you're living with an insane man who, by the way, kills without thinking about it." The way he said this made me want to start screaming at him, but I refrained, knowing that he was probably true._

"_He terrified you in life?" I asked, wanting to know more about this new spiritual acquaintance. _

"_Erik…" He searched for the words, "Has means of scaring any living person, as I'm sure you've noticed. Of course, he doesn't scare you anymore, does he?"_

"_That's not true." I said quietly, knowing I was betraying my own mind by even talking to something about this. "I'm terrified."_

"_But not of Erik." He pointed out. He walked closer to me and I stared at his eyes, which seemed full of life even though the owner was much more lifeless. His eyes must have not been told… of course eyes had an awfully bad time listening when something important is said. "I'm aware that Erik has a good side, anyone who gets to know him knows that his conscience rips him apart day by day, even if he won't admit it. But he's lived this way for so long… he has these blind rages. If he has one, he won't know you. You'll just be someone tormenting him for his face."_

_Ana sighed. She had heard the rumors in the Opera house above about the deformity. Still- couldn't she look past it?_

"_Do you think this mental instability could leave him?" She asked, finding anywhere but the face of this ghost to look. _

"_Not totally," The "man" admitted, "But if someone was willing to try and be with him I'm sure some of his facilities would return."_

"_I'm sure even the most functioning mind would go crazy with the concept of being alone for so long…"_

"_Erik's mind is one of the most functioning…" He said regretfully, "Unfortunately he chose to live the rest of his life here… He could have been so wonderful."_

_And I said it before I could stop myself! "He is wonderful."_

_I felt my cheeks fill with blood under this ghosts surprised stare. "So I was right in my thinking."_

"_No! No…" I said helplessly, "It's not that… it's… his genius!" I stuttered, wanting to throw away what I had said, if only I could change it! _

"_Be careful, Mademoiselle." Were his final words to me and then I was alone._

**Erik's POV**

When Ana had left Erik wandered into her room to clean it some. He hated when she came back to a bed not being made perfectly. Even though she made the bed, he had to admit that she wasn't very good at it. He smiled when he saw that the bed was made with many bumps. At least she tried. He knew she felt horrible leaving the room looking messy. He would've imagined that she had never been in a semi-descent looking place before. But he knew this was not true. Her education was apparent.

When the comforters were made well he tidy up a little bit and was about to leave when a small journal caught his eye. She must've forgot it. He had seen her with it a few times, writing things down and unknown to the world. The journal was covered in a dark blue cloth and it reminded him of her… what had she put in it?

He knew he shouldn't of, he knew that this was a violation of the trust that had formed between them! Still, his fingers opened the book slowly and he knew his eyes were reading over the pages… He smiled as he read her first entry.

"_I'm going down below- even though the note, which the whole cast is aware of, said not to. I need to meet this man, this ghost, this "friend". I wonder what I will find down there… I've heard rumors of many things. I know I risk my life to find this knowledge but I'm afraid that I have no choice. My conscious mind won't let me rest until I know! I'm going to write a very short note to "friend" telling him of these plans. I will assure him that I mean no harm… But these childish fantasies betray me!_

_If these stories are true… I will be in grave danger. I hope for the best, and if I do live you will hear from me again as soon as I can get a hold of myself."_

He turned a few pages in and read another entry. Something about her being captured by a madman. So that was what she thought of him? He sighed; she knew why he had let her live at that point. For being so naïve, she was so perceptive.

He turned a few more pages and his eyes went wide with what he read.

"_What is this thing you keep inside  
Out of light and wrapped in pride?  
Always afraid that one day it will show_

_I'll keep your secrets  
I'll hold your ground  
And when the darkness starts to fall  
I'll be around there waiting _

_When dreams are fading  
And friends are distant and few_

_Know at that moment I'll be there with you"_

He felt tears coming to his eyes. He couldn't read anymore! How could it be true? He placed the book down where he had found it and his tears began to shed. He didn't notice it, but one tear hit the blue fabric that he admired before he opened the book.

He walked as quickly as he could from the room and the slammed door was all that echoed from his entrance into the room… besides that single teardrop that was drying as he shed more.

She felt 'something' for him. And it wasn't fear!


	25. The Unmasking

**A/n: I don't own it! Why hello! I finally got this chapter done. I had to rewrite it… and now I'm not sure if I like it still… If it needs any changing I'll change it. Tell me what you think!**

Days had been getting longer. The sun was just going down and Ana closed the door to her dressing room. After practicing for a few minutes she would change and then go down below to begin her "lessons".

She reached her hand as far up as she dared to take it and drew a foot forward. Her feet were killing her, but it was just one price to pay. Another slow position and then she was off. The dance was very quickly paced at first, and she always felt the need to go faster than it was. She felt the need to let the music come alive within her. She knew Erik would kill her if she did this, however.

After the strange meeting with Erik's ghostly companion, Erik had not seen either of them. When she returned the next night Erik seemed somewhat scared to talk to her. It was odd, however, he seemed strangely happy. It was the first time he hadn't yelled at her for not getting something completely right. Ana knew that he would never yell at her for this under different circumstance, but his tension grew every day. Just by looking at him she could see that there was a massive wall on top of his shoulders, forever pushing him down…

The next position Ana threw herself into made her wince and stumble to the floor.

"Oh no!" She cried, forgetting the pain in her foot when she saw her slippers completely bloody. Her fingers worked rapidly and soon they were off. Without even bothering to look at her injured foot she ran her fingers along the slippers, holding them close so that maybe this disaster would fade away.

Bloody slippers were nothing knew; all ballerinas went home with bloody slippers every once in a while. Sadly though, these slippers were ruined. Ana didn't make enough money to get new slippers. She stared a sighed. Well, hopefully she would do all right with singing… if not she would surely be fired…she would lose her dreams all together!

She stood and limped across the room to get bandages, never faltering on her grip on her beloved slippers.

After bandaging her feet up, she opened a small drawer and placed her devastated ballet shoes there. She picked up the shell cameo of the sad woman. Her sat down at the cot in the room and swung her feet around on the bed. Soon enough she was lying down, staring at the cameo, which she positioned above her face.

"Oh mother…" She sighed, and pushed her hand away from her face and to the cot, where she wouldn't have to think about anything. But she had to think about everything!

Still, if she kept her body moving, nothing could penetrate into her closed mind. She stood up, trying to concentrate on anything but the pain in her foot, her childhood, or the man she was going to see.

Of course, she knew she couldn't love him. It was an unbearable thought really- a very continuous unbearable thought. How could see love someone who tried to kill her? How could see have feelings for someone who could never return the feelings? But, then again, she didn't have any feelings for him. He was a simple teacher. He wasn't friend, and he wasn't a ghost either.

The hard wood floor made Ana wince, but not as much as her next shoe. Although simple, nothing could help the pain in her feet. Also, the shoe didn't fit because of swelling and because of the bandage. She would go without.

The air outside of her changing room seemed oddly cold and Ana wished that she had brought something to wrap around her body, where sweat was drying rapidly. The same route was easy after she had memorized it once. It had taken her a long time to find, and the only reason she found it was out of coincidence. She had fallen into it actually… of course, at the time she was looking for it. It was around the same place she had first seen this ghost…

She slipped down into the walls and began her way to the lower cellars. Of course… she didn't really walk… she limped. Her mind was spinning the entire time, and she felt so tired. Still, if she didn't show Erik would certainly kill her.

There were no lights in the hallway and Ana spotted a rat. She made sure not to scream. Suddenly there were two rats. No… four. Eight. Sixteen.

She felt dizzy. An un-sturdy arm went to the wall to hold the rest of her weight up and she felt herself slipping. If she woke up here she didn't know what she would do. She certainly wouldn't be able to find her way. She would go mad with hopelessness and she would end up screaming as loud as she could until someone found her or the breathe in her lungs was gone.

She walked on until she found the lake. Her head was worse and she could scarcely remember what to do know. She kneeled down, trying to regain a sense of herself. Her foot was bleeding through the bandages and she was leaving a bloody trial behind her. This had just happened recently, but she couldn't tell you just when. Still, no one could follow her.

"Erik?" She asked the darkness, feeling faint. There was a soft echo before she started tumbling down towards the floor. There was only darkness after that.

When Ana finally awoke, she was lying in an all-too familiar room: Erik's room.

She felt like she had been out for hours, and clearly, she had. Erik was in the room as well. As soon as she could see clearly she noted that he was standing a few inches beside her. Not really standing…. Sitting. Sleeping.

Ana smiled when she saw him- His elbow was keeping his body propped up, and it seemed he ad been sitting there almost as long as she had been out. She pulled herself up, relieved in moving. And then she had the strangest idea.

She knew how absurd it was- she really did, but this thought was oddly new. What was the face behind this mask? Who was Erik that he needed to hide his face from the rest of the world. Why did he live down here all alone?

"_Ana, dear, we need to tell you something." _

_"Yes Papa?"_

_"It's about your mother."_

All alone.

Time seemed to stop as Ana wobbly hand started for Erik's face. Maybe if she knew he wouldn't have to be all alone anymore. Perhaps she could begin to understand… if only. If only…

Maybe he wouldn't have to hide from her after all. This could possibly make him trust again? Let him know that she wanted to know and wanted to help him. She truly did.

She leaned forward, an inch away from his face. She veered her arm away and she felt over, grabbing his arm. Of course, it wasn't because of a weakness, but she could pretend it was anyway.

Erik was instantly wide awake and instantly he was on his guard.

"Oh Erik!" She cried, "I'm so clumsy… Oh- I didn't-" She stared. His body relaxed and he shushed her without speaking. He leaned over and helped her back into the bed, for she had been as clumsy as to fall off. Then he bent over again and picked up the chair they had both knocked to the floor.

When he stood back up, he glanced her over. "You'll need to change, mademoiselle."

Ana smiled. Always the gentleman.

"What happened?" She asked anxiously.

Erik seemed to frown, and he pulled the sheets around her. "You were bleeding. What happened?"

Always, an answer in the form of another question.

"Oh. Nothing." Ana brushed it off. "Just dancing… it isn't the first time and besides, it-"

His silence made her stop making up excuses and look in her hands, which were placed gracefully on her lap.

"Perhaps I should tell my plans to Mme. Giry and you can stay here and practice until the show on Saturday."

"What's today?" Ana asked. What if she had wasted valuable time? Damn her foot!

"Tuesday." He stated, as though irritated by her disruption of his private thoughts.

"But- Erik! My foot will be better! I promise, I'll try harder!"

"Shh…" He cooed. Ana quieted down. This was the first time this voice had ever been directed completely at her. It was soothing… really meant for small children and the one that Erik would love. She, of course, was the winning child, which needed hushing. "I don't want to put you in jeopardy for performing. After the show, of course you may go back to dancing. This will also give your foot a chance to heal."

"Erik?" Ana asked meekly. Erik's gaze kept locked on her and she had trouble continuing. "Why do you allow me here?"

Erik took his time answering, and Ana almost thought that he had answered in his mind. Then she looked up, noticing the emotion that ran through him. Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm sorry, You don't need to answer."

There was silence, both of them contemplating what to do or say.

"You should change, you outfit is bloody." Erik said softly.

Ana looked down, and saw her lovely outfit ruined! Completely ruined… like her shoes… Her shoes!

She couldn't hold down her tears on this. She didn't even notice Erik sit on the bed next to her, his eyes staring at her… trying to find something.

She sat and bawled, for what seemed like hours. When she finally could control her self she couldn't begin to look at Erik. What a fool she was making of herself!

"My- ballet slippers- they're- completely- ruined." She sobbed, and she felt Erik sigh- in relief?

"We'll get you more, mademoiselle. After the performance." He spoke gently.

Ana face grew and she finally looked up at him. "I could? You mean- oh yes! I'll have money if I do well?"

She heard Erik chuckle and she couldn't help wanting to throw herself into his embrace.

In fact, she had a feeling that was what she might do. Not of her own accord, but her body would completely take over. And of course, it did.

She wrapped her arms around him, and she knew she was falling. She didn't care.

However, she didn't fall. Erik's thin and deceiving frame caught her, though he might as well have dropped her. He tensed up- went completely rigid. Still, this only made Ana hold him tighter. Of course, this was because she couldn't dare to see anyone suffer so much, right?

Violently she was pushed away. She landed on her bad foot and fell to the floor. It still didn't hurt as much as her heart. Erik was turning away from her, shielding himself. He seemed to be fighting an emotion very powerful, one he didn't know well. Although Ana was hurt, how could she not forgive him?

Erik wrapped his arms tightly around himself. When Ana made a move to help her, he stopped her with his powerful voice that was failing to resume control.

"Go to your room Ana." Was his fierce command. She couldn't leave him. Although she knew she should have she couldn't bear to leave him like this!

"Erik-" She stared.

"Damn you!" He bellowed, sending her to the door in fright. He had a sudden rush of vengence which seemed to bounce off every inch f this house... every inch of the world. Perhaps she had unleashed this side she was frightened of… perhaps she deserved whatever was coming to her. "Get into some other room! You have no idea what you do to me! You women are all the same!" He threw a desk over and simmered himself to a shelf. He rested his hands on it in attempt to keep himself up. "So curious! You all want to help me! Do you think I need help?"

Erik turned on his heel and in one swift movement he seemed to be by Ana's side.

"Do you think you should know? Do you think you're that goddamn special? Well, you want it! You shall know what it means to know the Phantom!"

Ana was now frightened. He was gripping her arms and she knew there would be bruises… why did she open her mouth? Why couldn't she listen? "You'll see it all!" He cried, dragging her the only mirror in the room. He seemed to stop to take in everything around him, and then he pulled her forward, ripping her arm out of her socket. In a swift moment he made her hand rip off his white mask. It fell to a silently watching ground.

**A/n: Thank you so much everyone for your support!**


	26. Nightmares and Feelings

**A/n: Hi! I don't own it!**

**Oh, SCInfinity: Thanks for your review! If you notice, reviews make my chapters better (lol hint hint nudge nudge) and I want to thank you! I updated as fast as I could!**

The world seemed to hold its place as Ana's eyes went over Erik's face. She felt her mouth opened from shock, but she couldn't find any means of closing it without putting her hands on each side of her face and squishing down hard. But she had the slightest feeling he would be offended even more by this act.

His face, by all means, was not what she expected. It wasn't pretty either. Still, something in Ana's head made everything click into place. Every reason was set. She had only one more question to ask… and she assumed this would not due at this time.

The skin was stretched in an awkward way and seemed translucent. Ana could see all his tiny veins working and she had a brief fascination- she pushed it away none-the-less. His eyes were sunken in and mismatched, which she could slightly tell through the eyeholes of the abandoned mask. He looked entirely like a monster. Yet… his eyes were sad. They no longer held the power they had with the mask on. He was watching her reaction, ready to go into agony. She forced her mouth closed but she would not let her gaze falter.

He had nothing to say, or better yet, _couldn't_ think of anything to say.

"Oh, Erik…" She whispered sadly. "I don't know why you let this control you're life."

"Something like this?" His voice was harsh, as if he were on edge and ready to attack. By all means, he was. When he realized that his deathly grip was still on her arm he threw her away from him and turned his head, so she wouldn't see.

When he turned back there was something else in his eyes- hate.

"Don't hate me, Erik." Ana said suddenly, without realizing. Suddenly she sounded beyond her years. "You can try and prove to me all you want how much of a monster they've made you appear to be, but I'll never believe it. The only thing you've done is let yourself believe it."

Ana knew she couldn't stay any longer. The nicest thing that could possibly happen is that Erik would finally lose all his patience with her and kill her for, in the least, being a stupid young girl. In so many ways, she was so young…

She turned on her heel and walked into the room she was using as her own. She knew being so close to Erik was a bad thing, but she needed Erik to bring her back across the lake, and she didn't even want to consider asking him while he was in this state. Besides, if he should need her at all, she would be right where he had left her.

Before she closed the door she caught one last look of the man she had probably just ripped apart without meaning to. He had picked up the mask and was staring at it, with his own reflection behind it in the mirror. He had tears running down his face, and Ana could hardly blame him for that. If he needed to cry, he could cry as long or as hard as he wanted to. She shut the door, but made sure not to lock it.

_Show him that you aren't locking him out of your life just yet._

After bathing, she changed into a long nightgown. The material was white satin and fell to her ankles. The top was cut in a V-shape and the sleeves were shimmering cloth that flowed across her bare arms. What more could she do than collapse on the soft bed? The soft comforter that she loved so much fell across her body, trapping in the heat. Her flexed her ankles and then stretched them out, letting her toes crack. Her wet locks fell across the pillow and they did not make her cold today- she loved the feeling.

Yet, even in her comfort, her heart was heavy- their friendship would never be the same again. Even though she was thinking about taking off his mask, she would have never done it if had caused him so much grief. Oh, she would never be able to get the sight of his sad eyes out of her mind.

She rolled over and kept her eyes opened, it was easier to keep focused on something else…. There was nothing else to think about!

She fell asleep listening to the organ and woke to the movement of something on her bed. The weight shifted and she sleepily opened her eyes to see a figure sitting next to her. She heard herself make a small sound in the back of her throat. The sound escaped as she opened her mouth. She was sure she meant to say something, but she just couldn't remember it.

"Ana…" The voice was small, and she knew she recognized it. How could she forget that voice?

"Darling… you need to wake up." He said, wrapping an arm around her.

"Why must we wake up?" She asked. She seemed childlike again, although she knew she was still in her earlier twenties. "I was dreaming about a beautiful man who knew everything… he was teaching me."

"Well, something, Ana… my small Ana, we must do things we don't want to do." The man said softly, "and your mother and I will need you to do just that now. Get up, quickly." The man's voice grew more hurried- worried.

"Where's mama? She always wakes me up with you, Papa." She was lifted out of bed quickly.

"You're mother… she's resting." He said, before a loud knock on the door came.

"Open up in there!" The voice yelled. "The devil's spawn! We must destroy it!"

"Devil's spawn?" Ana questioned softly, staring at the door that was now being pushed against repeatedly.

"Shhh… no speaking Ana. Don't you worry, your papa will find a way out of this."

The door busted opened, and many strange men followed this act. She was ripped away from her father's loving embrace and into the arms of hurtful men. She was hit a few times but she could only concentrate on her father's gaze. He was being dragged off, in order that he didn't stop them.

The faces began to close in on her…

She was kicking and screaming against them.

"No! No! Stop! Where's Papa? Where's Maman?" She cried against the faces. "You're hurting me! Go away!"

"Shh… Ana. Everything's alright." A voice cooed into her ear and she couldn't help but tearing, letting all the grief pass down her face.

"Don't hurt them! I'll tell you! I swear!"

She hit someone's chest and she felt him or her let air out in her deceiving strength.

"Ana!"

Arms went around Ana's shaking body. She was sweating badly. A mask came into view and Ana collapsed into Erik's arms. She was shaking even more at that point, not able to control herself.

Although Erik had probably never comforted a woman with nightmares before in is life, he caught on very quickly. He was rubbing her back as she made a huge puddle down her face, on his nice white shirt, and on the bed. It seemed like she was crying a river! At the least, he seemed quite uncomfortable!

When her tears had finally stopped, relatively, and she was sobbing quietly to herself, she knew she couldn't bear him to pull away. Thankfully, he didn't for a few minutes.

"How could they be so cruel?" Ana asked between a deep breathe… she was practically hyperventilating. "She wasn't doing anything… she wasn't… and we loved her so."

Erik was silent, thinking of his words carefully. "Why did they kill her?" He almost seemed to be humoring a small child who was delirious.

"How- how could they make him suffer so? That's really what killed him- missing her."

"Shh…" Erik said softly, "Don't worry about it now, ma chere. You've done too much thinking on the feelings of others toward them."

"I could have done something!" She cried, throwing herself to his chest, where she took out her frustrations. He let her push on him slightly, but then caught her arms gently and held them in front of her. She was crying again. "I could've saved them…" She whispered.

"It's not you who is to be blamed." She heard him whisper. She was being lowered back on the bed and she already felt her energy slipping away. "You were young."

"Erik…" She whispered, not entirely sure what she was saying.

He made a small noise to let her know he was listening. The covers went up around her softly.

"You don't think me a child, do you?"

Erik paused, "Not at all." He said soothingly. The bed shifted as he went to leave.

Ana didn't know what she was asking, but she spoke anyway. "Erik…" She called to him as he almost closed the door.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" She hardly heard him, and she knew it took ages for her to say what her tired mind was thinking.

"Do you think… you could stay here? …I… don't want to… have a nightmare again."

Ana thought he had left, it was so quiet. Still, she would not remember it in the morning… it all seemed to matter so much and yet not at all.

The lights turned out and she heard herself whimper in the rejection.

"I'm here."

The weight shifted and an arm wrapped around her. Before she let herself slip into the never ended palace of dreams she asked one last thing.

"You're not being nice to me just to save Christine from those men?" There was no answer.

In fact, Erik wasn't quite sure just why he was being so nice to her. Heaven forbid, even let himself stay in the bed with her. Actually, he had a feeling, but he didn't want to admit it. He _couldn't _admit it to anybody.

"Of course not."

She was asleep then, her eyes instant moving with the visions she was having. Erik had known she had nightmares before. She had screamed in the night before. He didn't know why this time he chose to help her though. Why give her his care when hours before she had left him a crumbling shell… with only the truth. Perhaps they were not so different. Apparently she had been driven away from her former life, which was what brought her to this Opera house. From what he gather, Erik had formed a theory. Ana's mother was not a Christian. And of course, being not accepted was told to leave. Refusing, rumors about her spread around the town… of course; this was all just a theory. It seemed logically enough. Why else would the run her from her home?

Erik had a pretty good idea what else it could be… but those thoughts didn't seem right in the situation.

Ana's hair was still slightly damp and it fell across Erik's hand. He brushed it off quickly and was instantly surprised when the movement made Ana push herself closer to Erik's body. Erik was surprised at this, and was even more surprised that he didn't jump away. In fact… he was enjoying it. The smell of Ana's drying skin… moist and soft. It brushed against his own deathly cold skin. Her face, so close to his… touching her…

He was embarrassed by where these thoughts were going. He would stop thinking altogether…. He would find away to sleep.

Ana awoke in the morning with a body lying next to her. When she turned her head to look her breath caught in her throat. Erik!

Erik was sleeping! Next to her! In her bed!

She didn't want to move from the spot… sure that nothing like this would ever happen again… once Christine was back into his life. She was jealous and she knew it. She sighed and looked down. His arm was around her and he seemed absolutely peaceful! But… her nightgown was coming up… giving him (if he woke) a wonderful view of body. And although toned from endless hours of dancing, she didn't want him to see her…. At that time… No. Ever. She growled in her throat to herself as she tried to fix it without waking him. It didn't work, but she managed to get her nightgown down.

When Erik woke up he jumped away from her, clearly forgetting where he was in his sleep.

"Good morning." Ana said, trying not to show her disappointment in his jumpy attitude.

"Mmh." Erik said certainly. It was his deeper voice, his thinking voice… she sighed dreamily.

What the hell was going on?

She didn't love him! Why was she acting like a little child?

And why was everything happening.

Erik seemed to disappear… or just slip away. It was his usual reaction to anything and everything. Ana shut the door and changed into something a little less… annoying. It wasn't that she didn't like the nightgown- she adored it! - But it made her embarrassed in that moment.

She would have to contemplate this… yes… very hard. But singing lessons were after dinner, since Erik had no doubt sent a letter to Mme. Giry. She would worry about everything later… tomorrow.


	27. The Bribe a New Destination

**A/n: Kind of a weird chapter… but it made sense to me… and I couldn't think of anything else… I don't own it! Thanks again to reviewers!**

It was the long awaited day of the show. Although the audience would never know it, the entire cast was shaking in their shoes by an unknown force. Even though they were not told, and some unseen force told them that if they were to fail the wrath of this new manager would be unbearable.

Erik of course, was going out of his mind. If he could win Christine back, maybe- just maybe- she could learn to love him again. At least he could hope that this one good deed could throw away all her fear of him.

The wall in box five was painfully close. Millions of times Erik had sat in the wall, the only emotion he felt had been boredom. Now, it seemed that his oxygen was short, that the air was too thin to get through to his lungs… He couldn't read, as he so often had done. He sat, his skeletal fingers digging into the sides of his skeletal knees. He should have been dead five years ago…

The feeling had been so real, like his chest would collapse from the inside. He couldn't even begin to comprehend what his sickness was. He knew that all masons eventually met the same fate, if they weren't dead long before. Still, it didn't seem the same. It was almost like something was trying to make it seem like he was dying… and yet he would always be stuck to this world.

This thought was a powerful blow. Erik would have happily died all those years ago… and yet the teachings of Father Mansart had forbid him to take his own life. But perhaps it did not matter… perhaps he was already doomed… How was it that a face made him just as evil as the devil?

_"Swans are ugly when they hatch," he said enviously, "and yet they grow to be the most beautiful and majestic of birds. That is one of life's pretty little mysteries, is it not? Like the snake, which sheds its skin, and the caterpillar, which turns into a butterfly. Metamorphosis…" His voice grew soft and distant as he continued, "Yes… that is the true magic in this world… but it's a secret that has never been revealed- not even to the tenth graduate of the College of Sorcery. Would you like to be turned into a swan, Daroga?"_

Erik's mind wanted to scream at him.

"If I had said yes, I'm sure you would have managed it somehow." The voice made Erik's heart stop, if it had ever really been beating…

He could not see him, but he felt his precious friend.

"If I had managed it… everything would be so different." Erik admitted to himself.

"Perhaps you should start to think of other ways of dealing with this…" The voice never faulted, it was inhuman. Erik knew that this could not be Nadir. Nadir would've fumbled over his words… given him a look of some kind. Still, there was no reason that this could not be Nadir.

"With what?" Erik snapped, sure that his irritation shown through.

"How much longer are you going to expect Christine to look at you differently?"

This again, hit a chord. Why was it that Nadir's only reason for existing was to strike chords, to make him feel more pain in the heavy weight in his chest?

"Go away Daroga, or we'll miss Ana's opening." For once, the voice was quiet. Erik of course wondered… maybe this voice was inside his head. Perhaps he was losing the sanity that he thought he had maintained.

"No thought within her head but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!" The voice clashed across the music, high and perfectly in pitch. Even Erik had to admit; Ana's voice was beautiful when trained- even for the few days they had been working. Of course, Erik had pushed Ana much harder than Christine. Since they had a "due date", it could not be taken lightly.

Ever since the beginning of the week Ana had stayed with Erik, barely eating, hardly sleeping. Although she tried to speak to him, his voice was only cold and distant- except when giving lessons. He was harsh, but he was proud of the pace she had gone at in learning. Still, she needed much more practice, but the progress!

Erik had discovered how fast a learner she was since the beginning. Singing seemed to come naturally for her like everything else. Her eye for detail was well, though not like his own eye, and she memorized quickly. It seemed that dancers were quick to memorizing, no doubt because of Mme. Giry's teaching.

The older woman had taken it rather well when Erik sent her the note about Ana. She seemed to think that that was going on- which would explain why Ana seemed tired and distant. Of course, Erik noticed that when she danced or sung all of her weariness fell away. Only when she came back to the real world did her face look troubled and exhausted by something.

Erik opened the space between the wall and the column just a little and the light, although dim, came streaming across his face. And was dressed in a white gown, with her red hair falling across her shoulders and down her back. Erik felt his breathe stop in his lungs- almost as if it had disintegrated. The clashing of the violins left the crowd in utter shock. He was glad it did- it was what the music was meant to do. This music raped their very senses- it astonished them. Yet Ana managed to stay completely pure throughout it.

If only Erik had been a swan… What things he could have done!

Then something else happened. Ana's feet began to move. Her whole body began to sway as she sung. Although her stance totally went negative for singing it sounded as it had before… it wasn't forced out. She began sway and suddenly her feet were planted on the ground. She was dancing!

Truthfully, Erik should have been furious. This was _his_ opera, how dare she ruin it! How dare she start something that he didn't know about?

Ruin it, or make it better?

Sighing, Erik admitted that as long as she was singing and not getting in the way too much it would be all right.

Erik felt his eyes wander around and they came upon the very sight he did not want to see! Her little friend was watching her much as he had before! But this time the lust in his eyes was unbearable.

The thought came to mind that maybe this was what Erik seemed to look like. Caught between emotions? Of course his emotions weren't always between being a decent person and totally lost by seduction.

Before Erik knew it, the door to the box opened and he had to tear his eyes away from her.

The man that entered was almost as thin as Erik was. But instead of the devil's face Erik was cursed with, this man was blessed with a pleasant looking face. He had darker colored skin… like Nadir… It almost pained him to think that this was what he would have looked like.

The man's long black hair was straight and fell across his back. His face was long and had an arrogant aspect about it. His nose ran along a straight line and ended in a point. He was dressed in a men's dress suit that was expense. Erik loathed this man already. In fact, he knew who he was.

The man walked into the box- his box!- and sat down in the chair that sat waiting for him.

"Do not tell me, Erik, where you are." He said, and Erik knew that this man had not been blessed with his voice. "I should very much like to guess."

Erik glared at him. Not only had this man captured Christine, but also he completely ruined Erik's Opera! This was most annoying.

The man seemed to look right at him. Erik knew this man could not see him, however.

"Come out, come out… what was it, hideous monster?" He said, and Erik felt his blood boil.

"Monsieur." Was the only thing he trusted to let out of his mouth without screaming.

"Aha." The man said, swirling his long finger along the chair. He looked up. "There you are. If you would please come out, Erik! We have business to discuss."

Erik sighed, knowing he had to obey this man's every word if it was to free Christine.

He felt the wall move to his instructive fingers. The wall was difficult for anyone else to open- especially throughout cleaning. Of course, who else but Mme. Giry would clean the infamous Box 5!

If the mask at all surprised the man, he didn't show it. Erik had a feeling that he had known already.

"There we are." The man's voice was too scratchy and painful for Erik to stand, and the mocking tone! Erik felt the need to rip his heart out. "You look like a business man, so we'll get straight to business. The person I represent indeed knows who you are… in fact, that was how we managed to find you. The stories- of course. Christine Daae is in Persia."

The words hit Erik like a brick wall. What the hell!

Before Erik could respond, the man continued.

"The shah has heard of your Operas, Erik. He wanted your… particular talent. He wants an Opera House and he wants the Opera Ghost to be in its first work."

"So this is bribery, then. He knew I wouldn't without a cause… and I'll probably die by the end this "opera"." As Erik said this, he imagined himself a cat. HE could almost feel the hair on the back of his neck rising…

The man nodded. "So you'll go?"

How could he refuse?


	28. Let's Have A Plan Maybe?

**A/N: I don't own it! Btw, I spell check every time! They're probably tons of mistakes though!**

The packing seemed almost too easy. Almost nothing was tossed into a bag- a few extra clothes, morphine (he had a feeling he would be needing it), designs, and a few other things. He had a feeling he wouldn't be coming back, so what did it matter it he left everything? After all, no one would get through his traps any time soon…

A book fell onto the floor as he pulled a few designs out of a shelf. It fell open to a page with the spine faced toward the floor. Erik sighed and bent over to pick it up. It was Sappho… He read a few lines.

"_With his venom_

_Irresistible_

_And bittersweet_

_That loosener _

_Of limbs, Love_

_Reptile-like_

_Strikes me down_

Erik turned the page and read on as he lifted the book into his hands.

_Afraid of losing you_

_I ran fluttering_

_Like a little girl_

_After her mother_

_Is it clear now_

_Neither honey nor_

_The honeybee is to be mine again_

_Day in, day out_

_I hunger and_

_I struggle_

_You will say_

_See, I have come_

_Back to the soft_

_Arms I turned from in the old days_

_Tell me_

_Out of all_

_Mankind, whom_

_Do you love_

_Better than_

_You love me?_

_I said, Sappho_

_Enough! Why _

_Try to move _

_A hard heart?"_

Erik sighed and put the book down quickly on the organ he was standing next to. How true her words were! Yet… he could not find the reason to take her advice. Perhaps it would be better for everyone if he simply let go of this bound he had on his mortal life.

"Erik?" The small voice echoed across his underground layer. Although quiet, Erik could hear plainly that Ana's voice was covered in happiness. He gave a soft smile at that but made his lips form into a straight line when she stepped through the room awkwardly. She had never been able to walk into his room normally. Any other room in his house she was fine, but she always hesitated before placing her small, delicate foot passed his doorframe.

He glanced up at her quickly and then went back to packing his small belongings.

She watched him for a minute and Erik could feel her eyes on his mask the entire time. He could feel her confusion and pain at this abrupt departure.

"You weren't going to say goodbye?" She said, and Erik realized she was fighting back tears. A deep breathe. He wanted to tell her that he was going to. He wanted to say that he'd be standing in her room when she got back to give her a hug and return her cameo. Of course, if he told her this it would have all been a lie. He couldn't bear to lie to her now… not after she gave him her trust willingly. One more deep breathe.

"No." He said firmly, trying not to let his emotions catch up with him.

She was silent for a moment and her breathing became heavier- trying not to let the tears fall. When she spoke, her voice had become scratchy from a giant lump that had formed in her throat.

"Where are you going?" She choked out.

"To save Christine." He said, spitting the words out. He wanted to be on his way to Persia, anywhere but here!

"I know." Those simple words threw him off.

"Why would you know? How did you find out? Did you know, my dear Ana, that even your life is in danger?"

The voice came out sharp. It was the first time Erik had heard her speak like this.

She shrieked, "Christine's been captured! You're going mad! I'm going mad! Your Opera has just been performed and now you're going to get Christine back! Why treat me like this, Erik?" He was shocked into standing there, like a cod opening his mouth. "Am I not pretty enough? Not beautiful enough for your damned Opera? An Opera you've been slaving away at- and you don't even have the nerve to see how it went! You think you can't have friends? Erik- you shoot your friends in the back! I don't know how I cou- and what's worse, I'm not even sure how to deal with you anymore! If you think you're going where ever you're going alone- probably to death, _monsieur, _on this insane crusade, you don't know how wrong you are!"

That made Erik's mind begin to grumble. And something he wasn't trying to bring about hit him.

"Wrong, Mademoiselle?" He shouted, "_Wrong?_ Don't think you know everything about me!"

"No one does!" She shouted back, taking a step towards him. She was mad enough, and too tired of fighting back her emotions to stop herself from saying these things. "You don't let anyone see your true face!"

"You yourself have seen my face!" Erik snapped at her and crossed the room away from her. "Why would anyone want to remember me? Who?"

"I haven't run away screaming, have I?" She said, anger following her like a blind lover. She was much quieter though. Perhaps a little unsure of what she was saying, perhaps too angry to care. "And why, if you're so hideous, does your ghost companion want to make sure you're alright?"

There was silence. Ana realized what she had just told him. She was too late to change the clocks. She took a step back, all of her anger and bravery gone within a second. He was staring at her, seething… but it wasn't from her talking to this ghost… it was something much, much bigger than that. This person meant something incredible to him. How could Ana ever think he wouldn't hurt her?

When he did speak, the voice no longer belonged to Erik. It was not nice to listen to. A monster inside a shell… He was deathly hideous now. It wasn't his face, but Ana knew he was going to kill her. How could he not? Perhaps he deserved everything that was about to happen to her? Why did she open her stupid mouth without thinking again?

"He spoke to you?" He questioned, his eyes behind the mask burned her face. "Nadir spoke to you? What did he tell you? Damn it! What did he say?"

Ana was silent. What could she possibly tell him to get herself out of this mess?

Change the topic!

"Where did they take her?" She questioned, sounding exhausted.

Erik sighed and added a growl in the back of his throat. He took a deep breath and answered carefully. "Persia."

"Why Persia?" She asked, gaining her courage once again and taking a step toward him. "What's in Persia?"

"The shah." Erik said.

"What would he-" Ana stopped. She looked down to the floor, her eyebrows knit together. She seemed to be piecing something together. "You were in Persia." She whispered to him, more to herself. She looked up to him quickly, her eyes growing wide. "It's to get to you!"

"You're very perceptive my dear." Erik said sarcastically mocking her. He turned and began shoving things in his bag once more.

Ana made an annoyed sound and stepped next to him. He seemed so tall… She shivered at his words.

"You can't do this alone." She said softly. His back went rigid. It was almost as if he was fighting her off without speaking. "I can help you…"

"I don't need help." He said sharply. Ana paused and looked away from him quickly. She tore her eyes back up to him and looked into his face from his side. Her hand went to his shoulder slowly. His back went tenser.

"Let me help you…" She whispered softy.

Erik sighed and his back became more relaxed. This made Ana feel slightly better. But still, what would he say? She couldn't let him go all by himself.

"If you get killed, don't you dare haunt me." He said, turning his head to look away from her. Ana couldn't conceal her smile. She wanted to wrap her arms around him but she remembered what happened last time… she didn't need to surprise him anymore. He had enough feelings wrapping around his head.

"I'll go pack." She whispered. She stepped toward the door and her fingertips trailed along the wood on the door as she went past it.

"Ana." She stopped and turned to look at Erik curiously. He was looking at her carefully, his angry tone completely gone. Her head twirled around her shoulders and stopped in mid-step.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded so delicate. It was nothing compared to his.

"You did very well tonight."

Ana smiled slowly. This was the first time she had a congratulations from him. It was the first time he praised her for something that she did. She was glad he never complemented her work… she didn't need someone doing that. She needed someone to make her better than she already was. But still- hearing him speak those words made her heart melt. She could fell her eyes melt toward him. She was ready to cry because of this statement, so instead she stepped quickly out of the door and head for her own room.

Then everything dawned on her in one moment. She was traveling to Persia! She was meeting the shah! Even though he was supposedly the enemy, she couldn't help but feel special. Her- Ana- meeting royalty!

She would pack two dresses for this purpose… not only that, but she had gotten accustom to looking magnificent around Erik. He had an eye for detail and dressed her well while she was with him. She opened the closet to looked for dresses. She sighed when she looked at all the selection. How much money did Erik make in a single week? And since he was the owner of the Opera Populaire he had to make five times what he had before he was the owner!

When she was finished raiding the closet, there were four of her favorite dresses laying on her bed.

One of the dresses was a medium colored blue. It was the softest material she had ever felt! There was a creamy white insert with white laces that crossed in the front. The cut was modest enough and the dress clung to all the right places. Ana loved it.

The second dress she pulled out was red- almost matching her hair perfectly. The dresses cut left her shoulders shown. It swept down to the floor in ruffles… but not too many. And come now, if Erik bought it, it was beautiful.

The third dress was white and flowy. It didn't even have a corset to go with it!

The last dress was black- she had a feeling she might need it- or want it. It had long sleeves that clasped at her wrists, but it was covered in yellow flowers. It was her favorite of the three, although she had the feeling it did not go with her hair. She would wear it anyway…. It was too pretty not to be worn. It was what she had chosen to wear at that moment.

Ana dressed and brushed her hair out. She sighed, thinking of Damien. She hadn't come straight below to Erik's domain. When she was about to leave, through the mirror Erik had shown her in her dressing room, when there had been a knock at the door.

Damien had burst in with tears in his eyes. He continued to tell her just how wonderful she was. He was so beside himself that he almost forgot to give her the flowers he had brought.

Ana was flattered really. He was gorgeous… and he was a very sweet gentlemen. Nothing like Erik… he did not remain to complete placement in everything he said. He was carefree. He was… fun. Ana liked him too; he was very pleasant to be around. But she had the feeling he appreciated her more than for her voice or her dancing. That was it… she had thoughts of Erik while she was with him. Thoughts that made her jumpy… thoughts like, '_What if Erik saw me speaking with Damien? He'd be furious!' _She had finally made her escape by claiming fatigue and he had made a huge scene about her getting a ride home…

Ana began humming a small tune. It wasn't at all like what she usually sang. It was high pitched and more classic Opera than she was used to. Still- it made her smile. She stood and gracefully (managing to be clumsy at the same time) tossed the comb onto her bed. She began hoping around- twirling, singing, jumping… enjoying herself. She could feel the huge smile across her face and she didn't hear Erik knock- or come in.

When she finally did notice the tall, lean figure resting against the doorframe she jumped and stood stock still, feeling the flush in her cheeks rise from her embarrassment at being found out.

"You remind me of a very

gentle little girl I once

watched picking flowers."

Ana smiled and made her self look more comfortable than she really felt. "Sappho… her poetry was amazing."

"She knew what she was talking about, I'll give her that." Erik said, drastically upset. It was evident in his eyes how much he was feeling.

"We're leaving early tomorrow?" Ana asked, trying to change the subject… or keep their minds busy.

"Unfortunately that's the best we can do." As he said this his arms folded gracefully over his chest and he looked oh-so bored. Ana looked this look for a strange reason. He always seemed like he was any other human like this… and she knew it was desperately what he wanted to be.

"Are you afraid to go back to Persia?" Ana asked, as she began folding the dresses that she had pulled out.

When Ana looked up he nodded. "It's been a long time." She stated slowly.

Again, he gave a swift nod.

"What made you leave?" She asked slowly, watching his reactions intensely.

Erik took in a very deep breath, and looked at her. "Rulers sometimes get bored… even with the most extraordinary things. Besides, I wasn't ready to-"

He stopped himself and Ana knew that this tiny hint she had gotten from him would mean silence for at least a week.

"Some men can't see the extraordinary." She whispered.

"Perhaps you should rest, Mademoiselle." Erik said quickly, trying to get away. "It'll be a long day tomorrow." He added quickly.

"Don't think about things too much Erik. There's always time to worry… and all you'll accomplish is killing yourself."

"Oh, don't worry! He's long since wanted me alive for that!" Erik took a small chuckle. Ana didn't know what he meant by this, but she decided not to try her luck that night. The door was almost closed.

"Erik?"

"Yes Mademoiselle?" The question came back rather muffled and Ana realized just how often she called after him as he left.

"Are we taking Ayesha too?"

"No, Mademoiselle. She wouldn't be safe in Persia."

"Oh… good night Erik."

"Good night…" Erik said softly. He paused for a second and then added, "Ana."


	29. The Ship Ride Part 1

**A/n: I don't think this chapter is quite finished yet but that's okay….. I've got to go. Hehe. I'll write more soon! Don't own it!**

The first few days of the journey where just as Ana expected- well, mostly.

She was pulled out of bed at three in the morning by Erik, and told that if she did not move as fast as she could she would be left behind. So she pulled herself out of bed, cursing Erik's impatient nature all the way, and moved as fast as she could. She didn't change from her black dress that she had worn the night before.

They had to sneak out of the Opera Populaire through the back exit. It was difficult, now that Ana was known. She had been spotted and was forced to speak with a few of the chorus girls, which had seemed like forever. Still, she had needed to go and get her cameos- she wouldn't dream of leaving without them. She was met with a full room of flowers, which made her smile despite herself. When they had reached outside Ana as met with a great surprise. She realized just how long it had been since she was out of the Opera house when small white dots hit her face. It was snowing! She tried to remove her pleasure when she saw Erik's face but she knew she couldn't hide her happiness. She had always loved snow… ever since she was a small child and her father would carry her out at night. He would take her to the largest hill in the small town and they would watch the stars together and share their hopes and dreams with each other. Still, that was past.

The carriage ride was just as she expected. Erik faced the window with a glare. His presence told Ana that his face was set into a deathly glare. She didn't try to stop his bitterness- what would she do? She knew by now that he would just be angry with her.

When they finally reached the docks Ana was met with a surprise that she didn't need to deal with. When she saw the young man's face she turned toward Erik and the boat, trying to hide her face. Erik, for the first time since the night before, seemed to come out of a trance. "What's wrong?" He questioned softly to her.

"There's a boy over there…" Ana said swiftly, trying to remain hidden.

"Mademoiselle?" A hopeful voice from behind her questioned. She watched Erik turn from her, trying to hide his own face as well. Before he turned completely, she caught something in his eyes…

"Ana?" The voice questioned again and she knew she was caught. She turned, only to see the young man- Damien.

"Hello Damien." She smiled.

"Oh!" The boy happily stated, "I was hoping that it was you! I never had a chance to tell you how unbelievably wonderful you sounded yesterday. I assume you got the flowers I sent you?" The boy remembered his manners and made a swift bow towards her, grabbing her hand and pressing his lips to it. He pulled away and his charming face formed into a bright smile.

"I only had a small chance to look at them, Monsieur. Thank you very much. They're lovely." Ana replied, not without noticing Erik tense up to both of their words.

"But where are my manners?" Damien said, looking finally to Ana's accompaniment. "Who is your friend?" Ana smiled and looked to Erik who turned slightly facing the boy. A theater cloak he had acquired at the Opera Populaire covered his face. Ana also noticed the young man's eyes change.

"This is Monsieur Devon." Ana said hoping Erik forgave her for making up a quick last name.

"It's a pleasure, Monsieur." Damien said, like the well brought up young man that he was. "And now I must know. What are you doing out at the docks so early? This ship doesn't leave for a few good hours. Are you going somewhere Mademoiselle?"

"A trip." She answered, forcing a small smile. She could almost act out what was to happen next. Still she tried to escape. "We're here so early to escape the crowd… and you Monsieur?"

"By coincidence, I'm taking a trip on this ship too." Ana heard Erik growl deep in his throat.

Damien, of course, didn't even know where the ship was going. Still, this mysteriousness of Ana had made him want to follow her to wherever she went. In the few hours he had until the ship left he would gather his things and tell his father just where he was going.

"Perhaps I'll see you aboard then." Ana said politely to her friend, knowing that Erik would be furious. Again, she didn't have anything against Damien- she rather liked him. But everything was not decided on whether she approved of it or not.

"I'll await that time impatiently." Damien said. "Good day for now." He took a thoughtful and dangerous glance at Erik. Still, his politeness made him give a small smile. "It was wonderful to meet you Monsieur Devon."

With that, the young man walked away to get his things together. He knew he was falling in love with girl with the red hair. Why else would he go somewhere he had not meant to go?

"Why does that damned boy insist on becoming your protector?" Erik said, throwing their suitcases onto the bed. He was planning o avoiding sleep whenever possible on the voyage. When he had booked the passage the night before he had been planning on going alone. Now, he would have to share the damn room with Ana. As if that were the worst of his problems!

He didn't want her coming with him, and yet he was flattered she wouldn't let him go alone. Still, she was simply a distraction. A total… mind spinning… distraction.

Ana remained silent, gazing out of the window and into the bay. She had a distant look on her face, which only made Erik's anger rise.

"You love him don't you?" He accused her, too used to rejection to stop himself. "I saw the stare you gave him! What? Is he simply so young? So handsome? So secure?"

Ana's eyes found his. "You know… I was think about my father a few moments ago." She seemed so fragile in that moment. Erik's anger completely disappeared. "He used to love the snow… I can't believe it's snowing already."

Erik said down on the bed, exhausted. Even in the wealthiest cabin aboard he felt vulnerable. He let the air in his lungs leave his body steadily and then he felt it be replaced by better air. It was how all things in life are replaced…. By bigger and better. Or young and healthier.

He looked up at her and smiled sadly. "You loved your parents very much."

She nodded slowly. "I used to pretend that everything was as it always had been. I tried to pretend…" She sniffed, and Erik knew she was about to cry. Still, she held herself together. Erik was quite jealous of this trait she had. She would never cry until she couldn't stop herself anymore. She looked up to him and smiled softly. "But listen to me. Going on when they are things to be done. I'll put our things away…" She stood and reached for the suitcases. Erik blocked her path to his own.

"I don't want you to look through my things." He said this harshly, remembering his drugs. She didn't even know he did these things… "We'll do it together." He added more gently. Ana nodded and grabbed her own small bag.

"Did I ever thank you for all the dresses you let me use?" She asked after a few minutes of silent unpacking. Erik looked up to her and for the first time noticed that she was wearing one of the dresses he had picked out especially for her. He smiled. "That dress looks lovely on you by the way."

Ana felt herself blush. "Thank you."

There were a few more minutes of silence as belongings were pulled out of their places and folded to be put in new places.

"I don't love him by the way." Ana said, letting her eyes fall over one of the dresses.

Erik stopped his own unpacking and watched her for a few seconds. "What do you feel for him?" He asked after a moment, forcing the words out of his tightened throat.

"He is a charming boy." Ana said smoothing out a white dress with her hands. "But I couldn't see myself following behind him the rest of my life."

"What could you see yourself doing, Mademoiselle?" Erik asked, almost without realizing it. When he realized exactly what he said he turned his eyes back to his clothes so he wouldn't have to look at her.

Ana's hands dropped to her side and the dress slipped onto her bed. Ana interesting question. _What did she want?_ She sighed heavily. "I wish I could be certain. I've been thinking about it recently… but I doubt anything of what I want could come true."

Erik fumbled with something in his hands and swore as it hit the floor. He caught himself and looked back up to Ana after he had picked up the item. She was unpacking again. "What would you want to come true?"

"Magic." She whispered, and then laughed to herself. "I must sound like a lunatic."

"The prospect is quite refreshing Mlle. I haven't been with anyone in a long time that I could feel free to sound crazy with."

"You don't sound like a raving lunatic." She said factually.

Erik chuckled. "Many would disagree. What would they call what I'm doing now?"

"A labor of love?" Ana guessed, losing all playfulness. She was dead serious. She had an angle in her voice Erik did not like so much. Still, a question was poking and prodding his mind. He needed to know.

"Then why are you here?" He watched her reaction. She fit the last of her clothing into a drawer quickly and stood straight up. She might as well had been a pole. She took a step toward the door to the room.

"Another labor. I'm not certain." She whispered. Without another word she wrapped a cloak around her thin body, opened the door, and stepped into the soft falling snow.

The rest of the first week seemed like an impossible journey across a black page. The ship moved slower than molasses in winter and Ana couldn't stand it any longer! Of course she only had to think about where they were going to change her mind. Only when she thought about it that way did the ship seem to move to quickly.

The warm liquid hit Ana's throat and slide down with a comfort that Ana was in need of. It was the first time she had ever tried tea that came from China and she was incredibly pleased with it. She was getting too used to the comforts of being famous. And famous she was.

Most of the crew already knew who she was and certainly knew after the first day. She received looks of lust from men and the women sent her smiles out of respect. She received questions about the performance every day and she was surprised how many in the ship had seen it! Ana almost laughed when they spoke. If the only knew that the composer was so close to them! Still, Erik wouldn't appreciate attention so she kept her mouth in the small smile she gave them.

"How do you like it?" A gentle voice next to her asked.

Damien was also aboard and had been following her around like most of the other passengers except worse. Ana smiled a little more at Damien- he was pleasant to be with and she was thankful for him. She didn't know how she could stand sitting with any other passengers for any longer! Just as she suspected, she hadn't seen Erik's mind since they left. Every time she entered his room he was sitting in the same spot, working on something. Perhaps if the ship wasn't so fancy… it had been the best in the harbor. Perhaps if she wasn't there… She sighed and took another sip of the tea.

"It's quite good." Ana stated, pulling her shawl more closely around her.

"You seem distant." Damien remarked. "Is there something wrong?"

"Maybe a little." She said quietly. "But I'm alright."

"Can I speak with you privately?" Damien asked, standing and gently touching Ana's sleeve. Ana looked up to him with a worried expression finding her face. She cleared her features and nodded slowly, pushing the teacup onto the table with the other ladies and gentlemen. "It's been very wonderful speaking with you all. I'll hope to speak with all of you again." They nodded and continued their discussions as Damien led Ana out onto the cold deck.

Ana stayed silent as they walked. Damien's arm was gently wrapped in hers as an escort. She had a feeling as to what he would ask and she wasn't looking forward to explaining it. But what could she possibly tell him otherwise?

Their steps echoed across the silent deck. No one else was out in the cold. It was icy and Damien tried to led her into a room, which she assumed was his own. She pulled away and stepped toward the rail, letting one hand gracefully support her body like a ballet bar. She missed dancing…

"Where is M. Devon?" He asked, glancing at her questioningly. Still, he remained the perfect gentleman and didn't betray his curiosity.

Ana smiled sheepishly. "In his room I imagine."

Erik, of course, had talked to someone and had gotten another room. After all, it wasn't proper. And with Ana's new popularity everyone in Europe would know if she shared a room. And of course they would want to know whom the room was shared with! Erik would be in the public's eye. Ana completely understood why he would want a different room.

"No one else has seen him…. I was also wondering, Mlle…" How sad! The boy was to come out of his politeness for a second! "…What connection he had with you."

Ana swallowed hard. She had seen it coming. Why didn't she take that time making up an excuse? Now her reasoning mind was blank. What could she say to this young man? And Erik's age made no help to her! He was twice her age for god's sake!

She searched for a suitable answer. "He was my father's friend." She gasped out.

Damien studied her for a moment and she felt her heart moving up her throat. She knew he could see right through her… she knew it…


	30. Seperation Without Thought

Chapter 30

"You're father's friend?" Damien's eyes were still studying her. He no longer held that look of utter happiness. He didn't trust her friend… but he trusted her.

"Yes…" she placed her other hand on the bar and stepped up onto it. The water was so beautiful… dark blue with white foam leaping up into the air. "He knew my father when he died… and my father had asked…"

"Ana!" Damien exclaimed, stepping forward and grabbing her shoulders.

"What?" Ana said softy, looking at him questioningly.

"You looked like you were going to fall." He answered, keeping his hands clamped around her shoulders.

"I'm not." She answered him, letting her gaze drift off into the endless water. 'Isn't it amazing?" She smiled widely for the first time in a long time and leaned farther over.

"You test fate, don't you?" Damien laughed, close to her ear. She looked at him and nodded with the smile still on her face.

"I haven't been on a ship in years…" she mused.

"I've never had so much fun on a ship before…" She noticed how close Damien was getting to her and for a second she actually wanted to kiss him. As she had said, she liked him well enough. Besides… it would be so easy to give up on what she was out here for… and he was so close to her!

He was only inches from her when she finally found her voice. "Damien."

He made a small sound in his throat to ask what it was that she wanted.

"I've got to go." She smiled and let him help her off of the rail. He seemed sad but smiled at her nonetheless. She nodded at him and took off for her own room.

Upon reaching it, she fell onto her bed. It was comfy… almost _too_ comfortable.

She was cold too. She could feel the coldness of her hands seeping through out her body, so she crawled under the covers. She wasn't enjoying the trip- at all. At first she had almost tried to make herself enjoy it. How could she enjoy something that was bringing them to their deaths?

Although the Majlis, or the Parliament of Persia, were in power, the shah would be able to control some of what was going on. After all- he had money and money can buy out so many people. Ana was worried for Erik.

She rolled to her side and she felt her hair curl underneath her. She couldn't relax. Where was Christine? Where could she be? How could they keep someone out of view and bribe Erik so easily? It didn't make sense that no one would know where the two were put. After all, the Chagny's were famous, were they not?

There was a month left to get to Persia… how could she talk to Erik about this without him getting mad at her? After all, his mind was swarming with memories of Christine. Ana picked up her dark blue diary and opened it to the first blank page. She leaned over to a bedside table and picked up a quill and ink. After dipping it in the ink, the pen began to swirl her letters across the pages, filling it with her private thoughts.

When she was finished, she put it down and stood. She had to visit Erik… she hadn't seen him in ages. She went to his room as quickly as she could.

She found him in a not surprising position. His instruments were laid out on the floor and she carefully was watching them. The ship suddenly hit a wave and he jumped to hold them in place. His arms went waving around her as he tried to make sure the contraption stayed where it was.

"Damn it!" He shouted. Ana couldn't resist laughing at him.

He turned, the look of death plastered on his face. He stopped when he saw it was Ana. He grumbled and turned back to his work.

Her laughing controlled itself to a tiny giggle and then to a small grin, which covered Ana's entire face. She came closer to him and sat down on her heels, a habit she couldn't break even after not dancing for ages. She leaned over his shoulder to try and see what he was working on. His shoulder was blocking it.

"What are you working on?" She asked quietly.

Erik face was a mask of anger as he glared at his project. And sat on the man's bed slowly and pulled her feet up for her arms to act as a blanket to them. She was silent as she watched him fix whatever was thrown around by the rock of the ship. Ana's giggle died in her throat and from her face entirely.

Erik stopped working on his toys and stared at the tubes that seemed to be formed from trails of animals. They didn't make sense to Ana, but then again, a lot of things didn't make sense to her. He started making little noises again- he was working again.

Her gaze went to the window. The curtains were pulled tight. It was no wonder everyone on the ship had questions about the man in the room. He hardly ever came out, the curtains were always closed, and he never spoke to anyone. How could someone with so much money be unknown? Perhaps they all thought he had some sort of disease. Ana thought briefly that maybe they were right.  
The material of the curtain was rough, and Ana had a little bit of trouble opening them. She moved them to each end of the window and instantly the room was filled with white light from the outside. The snow fell in big flakes. Night was coming, and passengers were retiring to their rooms and wishing for nothing but their warm beds and perhaps loving arms to go with the sheets.

Ana's head rested on the cold window and she immediately saw the window go white beneath her skin. No one was on board. Night was finally there, and the sky was black with white pieces falling to the ground. The deck looked a little slippery from snow people had stepped on in their hurry to get to their rooms.

"Would you like to take a walk with me?" She asked, maneuvering her head on the window so she could see Erik.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, what she thought, thoughtfully.

"Isn't it a bit chilly, Mademoiselle?" He asked.

Ana sighed, "I'd like to go- and I plan on it, whether you come with me or not. I just thought you might like to leave this room."

"Alright." He said, standing. He grabbed a coat and offered her one as well. She smiled and took it from his outstretched hand. "But not for too long."

When the ship docked, there was no more snow. The passengers didn't seem prepared for the change in weather, because they were in their lightest winter clothing. Erik had been ready for the difference, and he had warned Ana. Still, the difference in temperature made thinking almost an impossible task for Ana.

After their walk on the ship, Erik began to draw more within himself each day. Within days of landing he wouldn't speak to Ana unless absolutely necessary. She had found herself growing closer to Damien in that time. He was a smiling face that proved to be there each morning to greet her. He had insisted on eating his meals with her once Erik had refused to eat meals like normal human beings. But there was nothing Ana could have done, and Damien had made her smile more than once.

She was afraid she would have to say goodbye to him sooner than he had ever expected.

Mazanderan was completely different than Ana had expected. In her mind, she had pictured the hot sun spreading over a sea of sand. She had expected buildings that matched works of the gods. She had imagined huge white palaces spreading over that sea. She could've seen it right behind her eyelids if she had wanted to.

She loathed the sight before her.

Instead of those white palaces from her imagination, she was met with crumbling lives in poverty. The streets were covered in filth and beggars filled the streets. Erik was walking on ahead of her. He didn't look back to her, and she had the suspicion that he no longer cared if she went with Damien instead of him. While this hurt her, it made her angrier. How did he think that she could just abandon him after all they had been through together?

While they were packing they had had an argument. It was about "her safety". Clearly he believed that they were finished with the conversation. It had ended with him retreating and leaving the ship with all of his belongings, which wasn't much.

Her steps were moving furiously with the rage of her temper and she was gaining on his long-legged walk. People began to filter in between them and she was having a hard enough time keeping her eyes on him.

"_I think it would be wise if you accompanied your friend, Monsieur Soustelle." He said, closing the bag that held his many inventions. _

_Ana had simply dropped the dress she was folding onto the bed. "Excuse me?" She asked, horrified pain ripping through her soul. Didn't they already have this discussion?_

"Erik!" She shouted as he was stalled a bit by the crowd. She wasn't foolish enough to think that he had gotten stuck. For some reason he wanted her to see him- to feel that she could reach out and touch him. For some reason this infuriated her.

He stopped in the crowd, but didn't turn to face her.

She stopped, feet away from him. Someone pushed in between the two of them and Ana took one more step to ensure that it would not happen again. Suddenly there seemed to be no one else in the world. She was looking at Erik for exactly who he was. For all her terror of him- and he did frighten her, he did not seem intimidating now. It wasn't the Phantom of the Opera and the Rat girl. It wasn't Monsieur Devon or Mademoiselle Marquette any more. Names didn't matter ever again. It was simply two people lost in a crowd, each trying to protect the other from what they thought must have been the worst punishment for the other.

He turned to face her finally, and the look in his eyes made her gasp. He seemed so stiff- like an iron rod stuck in the ground. But his eyes were sad. Then that moment of awareness was lost.

"Erik-" She said, but the rest of the words died in her throat. She felt as it squeezed on those words and forced them back down until they were subdued.

"Don't follow me." He said. His eyes were suddenly harsh. He said it with such hatred! She felt his words sink into her chest like the blade of a knife- straight up to the hilt.

"What?" She asked, going into a kind of shock.

His eyes shrunk until she only saw black surrounding them. He was angry- and he seemed angered with himself, at first.

"I'm tired of your worries." He continued, coming closer to her. She suddenly felt the crowd all around her- pushing her toward this man. This man was suddenly losing his control. "I don't believe that you could ever worry about a man like me. All the happiness I gave you was for Christine's sake. And then I hoped that maybe you could've helped me get her back. I realize that you're just holding me back from finding her." He gripped her shoulders, and she felt his skeletal fingers digging against her skin. "If you follow me, I swear I'll kill you with my own hands."

And then he was gone.

She was practically dropping her sack though and someone grabbed for it. Thinking it was a thief, she yanked on it harder and this person grabbed her arm. She was loosing Erik in the swarm of people! She turned to strike the person keeping her from following him.

"_Your safely means a lot, Mademoiselle." He said._

"_That didn't seem to matter before, now did it?" She accused, her hurt eyes boring into his. It was the first time she had felt such outright annoyance at his attitude._

"_Mademoiselle-" The words started to come out of his mouth._

"_You will listen to me, Erik." She said, having a moment of bravery. She wasn't thinking anymore. He couldn't- shouldn't, do it to her._

"Mademoiselle Marquette." The voice behind the light grip said. "What's wrong?"

Ana looked up to Damien's face. She looked back to the crowd only to find that she had completely lost Erik.

"I'm sorry, Damien." She said in a hurry. She felt tears down her face and briefly wondered how long she had been crying. "I've seemed to have lost Monsieur Devon. You see- we had a bit of an argument."

"_Don't follow me." _

"He left you here?" he asked, becoming suddenly very angry. His eyes swarmed around the crowd, looking for Erik in anger.

"Oh no!" Anna exclaimed, "He left me on the ship!" She seemed completely unaware that this didn't help Damien in the slightest.

"Why would he do such a thing?" He demanded. "You could have been in danger!"

"I must go." She said, pulling away from him. "I have to find him."

"I don't think you should find him." Damien said slowly. He slowed his words, realizing his mistake. "He shouldn't have left you by yourself, especially in a place where you won't fit in."

"Damien," She said, pulling away from his outstretched hand. "I can't abandon him."

"What?" He asked, suddenly a confused look passing across his features. "How could you be abandoning _him_?" The hate in his voice was unmistakable.

Ana eyes studied the crowd, and she tried to pull away from Damien's grip. He held fast and, getting frustrated, she started hitting him.

"Ana!" Damien pulled her to him in an attempt to stop her from hitting him. "I don't trust him with you."

Ana suddenly felt that she was overfilled with sorrow. The tears were suddenly pouring down her face and she couldn't see through the blurriness and she couldn't stop. It was the worst betrayal she could have imagined.


	31. Into the Unknown

If not saying something was being truthful; Erik was doing a damn well good job of being a bona fide honest man. While he was worried for the girl's safety, he wasn't blind. He had noticed how much time she had been spending with that blasted boy. And how could he convince him to leave when all he wanted to do was stay with Ana. The logical thing was to give up Ana for Christine. He didn't need the boy's murder on his back- he was already worried for another visit from Nadir! And what could he do to repel a ghost?

The shah was not who he was when Erik had left. With the new change in government, the shah was simply a title to let the formal royalty fell as though they weren't completely lost. But it wasn't just the position of power. The shah no longer lived such a palace of great esteem. Instead, the royal bloodline was lost and the shah made haste to protect a small estate for himself and his family. It couldn't have been bigger than Manderazan. The man Erik had met had the same moustache, and the same eyes as the shah Erik had known. But it was not that man.

When Erik entered, a look of joy passed this young man's face. He looked to be twenty at the earliest.

"Ah Erik!" he exclaimed, with all the class of the shah. It seemed that the royal family still owned this land in all rights. Like his father had once done, the man rose from his seat in the presence of the Angel of Death. "I was getting impatient as to your arrival. I understand the ship that brought you over was docked for two days and has now been gone for four. I began to wonder if you had come at all."

Erik stared at the man, and suddenly he felt different. It was as if he were living a dream. None of it made sense. It was a dream where waking up was the sole purpose of dreaming- a nightmare really. Erik's shoulders became rigid. He knew how he should act. It was if he were truly waking up from his small world, which revolved around the opera house.

"You'll forgive me eventually." He said bitterly. It was time to face his worst fears. "Tell me what you'd like me to do."

* * *

The sun poured into the small room and tumbled down onto the floor of the small room. Ana petit figure was slumped in the corner of the room. At this point, she was sick of crying. She was sick of feeling and all that remained was to be an empty shell. Damien had insisted on getting her a cozy little place to stay, and assured her that he would be back after his business was over.

When did he leave? When did he say he would be coming back?

She didn't know… and she didn't know if she cared any longer, either.

She kept playing the words Erik had spoken over and over in her head. The look of hatred in his eyes flashed across her eyelids over and over until she felt trapped within her own head. She sun was harsh to her eyes and she felt very lost.

He had said he would kill her. How could he say such a thing, let alone do it? It seemed to her that a friend would not do such a thing. Of course, she had to remind herself, this man had never had that much experience with relationships in his lifetime.

"I can't just sit here and wait for him to come back and save me." She muttered, staring at the light coming through the open window. She didn't feel like she needed to be saved… moreover that she needed to do some saving.

She would not be scared of this man… no matter how many things he could do. She felt as though she had grown a year with a day it took to get to Persia. She wondered how precious Christine had to be to win so much of Erik's attention. She would not think of it that way. How can you forget your first love? That must have been it. It proved that Erik was not as inhuman as he appeared to be.

She stood quickly, with silent determination. She couldn't just be the young girl without a role in this- she had to do something. If not to make Eric see that she was not going to get him into trouble, then to at least to help Christine.

She smoothed her dress down, and ran her fingers through her hair. She would need a more convincing attire if she was going to make this plan work. She had some money she had found in her bag- Erik must've been planning to leave her for a few days. She would buy a dress with that.

She began rummaging through her bag to find it, and when she found it she dropped it into the pockets of her cape. A quick glance at the bag and something caught her eye. She moved the garment that was on top of it to get a better view. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a small cameo. That same cameo she had given to him as a gift. She lifted it up and started at it with a look somewhere been disgust, anger, and sorrow. How could he think that this was the only symbol of their friendship? She felt the blood in her veins begin to boil. She must find him. She knew there was no other hope. She quickly scribbled a note on the table so Damien would not worry as much. Without another thought, not even to that of her clothing, she opened the door and went on a quest to recover her friend… and maybe herself as well.


End file.
